Sunday, 29 November 2020

It's the First Sunday of Advent and there is ...



... AND JERUSALEM HAS BEEN MADE DESOLATE.
 

Roráte caéli désuper,

et núbes plúant jústum.

Drop down, ye heavens, from above,

and let the skies pour down righteousness.

Ne irascáris Dómine,

ne ultra memíneris iniquitátis:

ecce cívitas Sáncti fácta est desérta:

Síon desérta fácta est, Jerúsalem desoláta est:

dómus sanctificatiónis túæ et glóriæ túæ,

ubi laudavérunt te pátres nóstri.

 

Be not wroth very sore, O Lord,

neither remember iniquity for ever:

thy holy city is a wilderness,

Sion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation:

our holy and our beautiful house,

where our fathers praised thee.

 

Peccávimus, et fácti súmus tamquam immúndus nos,

et cecídimus quasi fólium univérsi:

et iniquitátes nóstræ quasi véntus abstulérunt nos:

abscondísti faciem túam a nóbis,

et allisísti nos in mánu iniquitátis nóstræ.

 

We have sinned, and are as an unclean thing,

and we all do fade as a leaf:

and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away:

thou hast hid thy face from us:

and hast consumed us, because of our iniquities.

 

Víde Dómine afflictiónem pópuli túi,

et mítte quem missúrus es:

emítte Agnum dominatórem térræ,

de Pétra desérti ad móntem fíliæ Síon:

ut áuferat ípse júgum captivitátis nóstræ.

 

Behold, O Lord, the affliction of thy people,

and send forth him whom thou wilt send;

send forth the Lamb, the ruler of the earth,

from Petra of the desert to the mount of the daughter of Sion:

that he may take away the yoke of our captivity.

 

Vos testes mei, dicit Dóminus,

et servus meus quem elégi;

ut sciátis, et credátis mihi:

ego sum, ego sum Dóminus, et non est absque me salvátor:

et non est qui de manu mea éruat.

 

Ye are my witnesses, saith the Lord,

and my servant whom I have chosen;

that ye may know me and believe me:

I, even I, am the Lord, and beside me there is no Saviour:

and there is none that can deliver out of my hand.

 

Consolámini, consolámini, pópule méus:

cito véniet sálus túa:

quare mæróre consúmeris,

quia innovávit te dólor?

Salvábo te, nóli timére,

égo enim sum Dóminus Déus túus,

Sánctus Israël, Redémptor túus.

 

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people;

my salvation shall not tarry:

why wilt thou waste away in sadness?

why hath sorrow seized thee?

Fear not, for I will save thee:

For I am the Lord thy God,

the Holy One of Israel, thy Redeemer.


1 comment:

P. O'Brien said...

Vox, perfect post for the liturgical season and the season of the world now.