SEQUENTIA
DIES IRAE
(Missa pro defunctis)
A DAY OF WRATH, THAT DAY WILL BE,
Just embers now, the world we see,
David, the Sybil both agree.
Great indeed will be the trembling,
Great Judge coming, them assembling
From broken barrows He did fling.
Hear now the trumpet’s wondrous sound,
Through all the tombs deep in the ground,
To call mankind His throne around.
See death and nature both in awe,
As mortal man defies their law,
Such is the Judge’s potent draw.
The book in which is written all,
Men’s lives and deeds it does recall,
Arrives, meet judgment now to fall.
And when the judge does take his seat,
All secrets laid before his feet,
Sins unavenged will vengeance meet.
Yet what should I, a frail man, plead,
Who, now, for me will intercede,
When e’en the just His mercies need?
O King of awful majesty,
Who save your chosen ones freely,
Save me, O Fount of Piety.
Gentle Jesus, recall the name,
Of me, the one for whom you came,
My soul, that day, do not disdain.
You sought me when you, weary, rested,
Salvation from your cross obtested,
Let not your work from me be wrested.
O Just Judge of retribution,
Work your gift of restitution,
‘fore your judgment’s execution.
My groans like those of one accused,
My cheeks with guilty redness bruised,
God, let this begger be excused.
You were Mary’s absolution,
And the good thief’s sins’ ablution,
Be my soul’s hope-filled locution.
Though undeserving is my prayer,
Deal gently with me, good Lord fair,
And me from flames eternal spare.
Be pleased to count among your sheep,
Me now, who from the goats you keep,
And at your right hand let to sleep.
That when the wicked you confound,
Those who to acrid flames are bound,
Then may your call for me resound.
Upon my knees, head bowed in prayer
My ashen, contrite heart I bear,
At this, my end, I beg your care.
Full of tears will be that day,
From embers man leaves in dismay,
To stand accused, the Judge before,
Spare him, O God, for ever more.
Gentle Jesus, Lord of all,
Grant them rest. Amen.