THE HIGH KING’S DESCENT

A Celtic High Cross in Ireland

The Liturgical Hymn of Holy Saturday in the Ancient Church of the West

Our High King resteth in shadowed earth,

Sabbath of stillness before the new birth;

Still are the hills and the hush of the wave,

Stone lieth sealed at the mouth of the grave.

Still is the wind over meadow and sea,

Still is the world in its waiting to be;

Yet in the deep where no eye may see,

God worketh hidden in mystery.

Heaven beholdeth while earth yet is sealed,

Depths are divided though nothing revealed;

Throned in the highest, yet treading the grave,

Lord of all worlds, both to conquer and save.

Veil now is thinned between shadow and light,

Near are the realms in the hush of the night;

Here in the stillness all borders are crossed,

Life seeketh life in the place of the lost.

Tree of the Garden, now Tree of the Cross,

Bearing the fruit that redeemeth our loss;

Carved in the High Cross, with knot without end,

Stories of sorrow in glory now blend.

Adam is sleeping in dust of the fall,

David is silent, no song at his call;

Prophets and kings in the cavern abide,

Waiting the word of the Crucified.

O Slain Lamb, risest to war in the deep,

Breaking the bonds of the buried in sleep;

Lion of Judah, none standeth Thy might,

Entering death as the Lord of the fight.

“Lift up your heads!” to the darkness is cried,

“Open, ye gates!” to the depths is replied;

“I AM” resoundeth through cavern and chain,

Rending the night with the sound of Thy Name.

Earth in her depths now trembleth and groans,

Stone at the threshold is stirred in its bones;

Waters of chaos are shaken below,

Feeling the tread of their Conqueror go.

Hosts of the heavens in silence attend,

Angels in awe at the war and the end;

Watching the King in His terrible grace,

Storming the stronghold none else could face.

Adam awakeneth, called by Thy voice,

Eve from her weeping is bid to rejoice;

“Rise from the dust, for I call thee My own,

Life I restore thee, and claim thee My throne.”

Breaking the bars and the brazen-bound gate,

Spoiling the tyrant and shattering fate;

Captives are gathered from ages untold,

Led in Thy triumph from darkness and cold.

Grace like a flood from the wounded side flows,

Gifts without number Thy victory bestows;

Light to the blind and release to the bound,

Life to the dead in Thy rising is found.

Captive Thou leadest captivity’s line,

Bearing them forth in a triumph divine;

Death is despoiled and Hell is undone,

Christ hath prevailed and the Kingdom is won.

Fire of the Pascha is lit in the night,

Flame of defiance, proclaiming the Light;

High upon Tara it burneth again,

Sign of the Kingdom o’er powers of men.

No hand may quench it, no shadow contain,

No throne oppose it, no power restrain;

For Thou hast kindled what none can destroy,

Light of the world and the nations’ true joy.

Cross of the Christ is the Tree ever-blest,

Rooted in death, yet the giver of rest;

Circle unending, the Paschal embrace,

Knot of salvation no time can efface.

End and beginning are bound fast in Thee,

First and the Last through eternity;

Heaven and earth in Thy covenant meet,

All things restored and made whole at Thy feet.

Still do we watch in the silence of prayer,

Knowing the triumph already is there;

Dark is the hour, yet nearer the morn,

Deep in the night is the new day born.

Soon shall the cry from the darkness arise,

Light from the tomb and the Life of the skies;

Stone shall be rolled and the grave overthrown,

Christ shall be seen as the King on His throne.

Praise to the Father, the Spirit, the Son,

Hidden the battle, yet fully is won;

High King eternal, Thy triumph we sing - 

Christ of the Sabbath, Redeemer and King.

This Holy Day we await Thy return,

As we hold to Thy promise, and watch for Thy morn.

Till from the darkness Thy glory shall break,

Light of the world, all creation to wake.

(Edited by Bp. Joseph of Loveland)