Six Choruses for male voices and string orchestra

Alone to sacrifice Thou goest, Lord,
Giving Thyself to death whom Thou hast slain.
For us Thy wretched folk is any word,
Whose sins have brought Thee to this agony?

For they are ours, O Lord, our deeds, our deeds,
Why must Thou suffer torture for our sin?
Let our hearts suffer for Thy passion, Lord,
That sheer compassion may Thy mercy win.

This is that night of tears, the three days' space,
Sorrow abiding of the eventide,
Until the day break with the risen Christ,
And hearts that sorrowed shall be satisfied.

So may our hearts have pity on Thee, Lord,
That they may sharers of Thy glory be:
Heavy with weeping may the three days pass,
To win the laughter of Thine Easter Day.

Set free Thy people, set free Thy servants, 
Lighten Thine anger, Ruler most holy; 
Look on their anguish, bitter their weeping, 
    Christ, in Thy mercy. 

Thou art our Father, Master exalted, 
We are Thy servants, Thou the Good Shepherd, 
Bearing Thy token of blood and of crimson 
    Marked on our foreheads. 

Deep in Thy hell who then shall confess Thee? 
Yea, shall the dead give praise to Thy name? 
Judge of our dread, Thy rod is of iron, 
    Spare us, we pray Thee. 

Bring not so near to Thy people, Thy servants, 
The cup of Thine anger, Thy merited wrath : 
Lighten upon us Thine ancient compassion. 
    We cry. Do Thou hear! 

Loosen, we pray Thee, our load of transgression. 
Vouchsafe to keep us, Prince ever blessed. 
Vanquish the shadow that darkens our spirits, 
    Light of the world. 

Saint of all saints and king of all kingships, 
Visit Thy people with Thy right hand. 
Lift up the light of Thy countenance upon us, 
  Lord, or we perish.

How mighty are the Sabbaths, how mighty and how deep, 
That the high courts of heaven to everlasting keep.
What peace unto the weary, what pride unto the strong, 
When God in Whom are all things shall be all things to men. 

Jerusalem is the city of everlasting peace, 
A peace that is surpassing and utter blessedness; 
Where finds the dreamer waking Truth beyond dreaming far, 
Nor is the heart's possessing less than the heart's desire. 

But of the courts of heaven and Him who is the King, 
The rest and the refreshing, the joy that is therein, 
Let those that know it answer who in that bliss have part, 
If any word can utter the fullness of the heart. 

But ours, with minds uplifted unto the heights of God, 
With our whole heart's desiring, to take the homeward road, 
And the long exile over, captive in Babylon, 
Again unto Jerusalem, to win at last return. 

There, all vexation ended, and from all grieving free, 
We sing the song of Zion in deep security. 
And everlasting praises for all Thy gifts of grace 
Rise from Thy happy people, Lord of our blessedness. 

There Sabbath unto Sabbath succeeds eternally, 
The joy that has no ending of souls in holiday. 
And never shall the rapture beyond all mortal ken 
Depart the eternal chorus that angels sing with men. 

Now to the King Eternal be praise eternally, 
From whom are all things, by whom and in whom all things be. 
From Whom, as from the Father, by Whom, as from the Son, 
In Whom, as in the Spirit, God the Lord, Three in One. 

Noblest, I pray thee, 
Have pity upon me, 
Thy face is a sword, 
And behold, I am slain. 
From the core of my heart 
I have loved thee, 
Aid, oh aid ! 
Love the deceiver. 
Love the all-conquering, 
Come to mine aid ! 

Thy hair hath entangled 
My very heart's fibre. 
The flame is upleaping, 
And sinking my soul. 
All strength 
ebbs from me, 
Aid, oh aid ! 
Love the deceiver, 
Love the all-conquering, 
Come to mine aid ! 

To you, consummate drinkers, 
Though little be your drought, 
Good speed be to your tankards, 
And send the wine about. 
Let not the full decanter 
Sleep on its round, 
And may unheard-of banter 
In wit abound. 

If any cannot carry 
His liquor as he should, 
Let him no longer tarry, 
No place here for the prude. 
No room among the happy 
For modesty. 
A fashion only fit for clowns, 
Sobriety. 

If such by chance are lurking 
Let them be shown the door ; 
He who good wine is shirking, 
Is one of us no more. 
A death's head is his face to us, 
If he abide. 
Who cannot keep the pace with us, 
As well he died. 

 ... 

But between god and goddess, 
Let there no marriage be, 
For he whose name is Liber 
Exults in liberty. 
Let none his single virtue 
Adulterate, 
Wine that is wed with water is 
Emasculate. 

Queen of the sea we grant her, 
Goddess without demur, 
But to be bride to Bacchus 
Is not for the like of her. 
For Bacchus drinking water 
Hath no man seen; 
Nor ever hath his godship 
Baptized been.

The toil of day is ebbing, 
The quiet comes again,
In slumber deep relaxing 
The limbs of tired men.

And minds with anguish shaken, 
And spirits racked with grief,
The cup of all forgetting 
Have drunk and found relief.

The still Lethean waters 
Now steal through every vein,
And men no more remember 
The meaning of their pain.

Let the weary body lie 
Sunk in slumber deep.
The heart shall still remember Christ 
In its very sleep.