Hymn by Thomas à Kempis:
Verae pacis visio,
Felix nimis ac formosa,
Summi Regis mansio;
De te o quam gloriosa
Dicta sunt a saeculo!
Lapidibus expolitis
Structa tu mirifice
Gemmis, auro, claris vitris,
Decoraris undique;
Portae fulgent margaritis,
Plateae sunt aureae.
In te jugiter jocundum
Alleluia canitur;
Sollemne ac laetabundum
Semper festum agitur;
Totum sanctum, totum mundum,
In te quidquid cernitur.
In te nunquam nubilata
Aëris temperies;
Sole solis illustrata
Semper est meridies;
In te non nox fessis grata,
Nec labor nec inquies.
In te florida vernalis
Perdurat amoenitas;
Ferax semper aestivalis
Rutilat serenitas;
Autumnalis seu brumalis
Procul est frigiditas.
Quidquid libet, hîc dulcoris
Avium in cantibus,
Quidquid jubili canoris
Musicis in actibus,
In te plenum hoc saporis
Abundat diffusius.
In te robusta juventus
In aevum non deperit;
Senex seu morte praeventus
Neque est neque erit;
Sed neque futurum tempus;
Praesens nunquam praeterit.
Lex membrorum animalis
Erit plene mortus;
Nova caro spiritalis
Erit menti subdita;
Vivaque vis sensualis
Rationi consona.
In te vivus continetur
Fons bonorum omnium;
In quo plene possidetur,
Proprium as libitum,
Quidquid corpori videtur
Sive menti congruum.
In te durat longitudo
Sempiterni temporis,
Quae plena beatitudo
Reformati corporis;
In hoc par similitudo
Redemptis et Angelis.
O quam vere gloriosam
Eris, corpus fragile,
Cum fueris tam formosum,
Forte, sanum, agile,
Liberum, voluptuosum,
In aevum durabile!
Nunc libenter ac ferventer
Laborum fer onera,
Habeasut condecenter
Dona tam magnifica,
Diterisque luculenter
Gloriâ perpetuâ!
Amen.
Vision whence true peace doth spring,
Brighter than the heart can fancy,
Mansion of the highest King;
O how glorious are the praises
Which of thee the prophets sing!
Thou with beauteous stones, and polished
Wondrously art raised on high;
Thou with precious gems and crystal
Decorated gloriously:
And with pearls Thy portals glitter,
And with gold Thy high-ways vie.
There for ever and for ever
Alleluia is outpoured
For unending and unbroken
Is the feast day of the Lord;
All is pure and all is holy
That within thy walls is stored.
There no cloud nor passing vapor
Dims the brightness of the air;
Endless noonday, glorious noonday,
From the Sun of suns is there;
There no night brings rest from labor,
For unknown are toil and care.
There the everlasting spring-tide
Sheds its dewy, green repose;
There the summer, in its glory,
Cloudless and eternal glows;
For that Country never knoweth
Autumn's storms nor winter's snows.
Whatsoever trills of gladness
From the sweet birds' sweetest throat, -
Whatsoe'er delicious concord
Drops from music's tenderest note, -
Strains a thousand times more lovely
Round the heavenly City float.
Youth with all its freshest vigour
Into age there cannot wane,
There the old man shall not sorrow
For departed years again:
Nothing past, and nothing future, -
Time doth present still remain.
Animal and carnal passion
Nevermore can weary there;
That new flesh made spiritual
Then the spirit's yoke shall bear;
Sensual vigour, perfect reason,
Both one common law shall share.
O how blessed, O how quick'ning,
Is the Fount of all good things,
Whence each heart hath full possession
Of its best imaginings:
Whence hath body, whence hath spirit,
What their highest rapture brings!
Sempiternal is the glory
In the which that Land is viewed,
Where each ransomed form attaineth
Its complete beatitude;
Where the Elect and the Angels
Hold entire similitude.
O how glorious and resplendent,
Fragile body, shalt thou be,
When endued with so much beauty,
Full of health, and strong, and free,
Full of vigor, full of pleasure
That shall last eternally!
Now with gladness, now with courage,
Bear the burden on thee laid,
That hereafter these thy labors
May with endless gifts be paid:
And in everlasting glory
Thou with brightness be array'd!