POETRY: Wherefore The Scars Of Christ’s Passion Remained In The Body Of His Resurrection, by Theodulf of Orleans

Translated from the Latin by Helen Waddell

When Christ came from the shadows by the stream
Of Phlegethon,
Scars were upon his feet, his hands, his side
Not, as dulled souls might deem,
That He, who had the power
Of healing all the wounds whereof men died,
Could not have healed his own,
But that those scars had some divinity,
Carriage of mystery,
Life’s source to bear the stigmata of Death.

By these same scars his men
Behind the very body that they knew,
No transient breath,
No drift of bodiless air,
And held him in their hearts in fortress there.
They knew their Master risen, and unfurled
The hope of resurrection through the world.

By these same scars, in prayer for all mankind,
No transient breath,
No drift of bodiless air,
And held him in their hearts in fortress there.
They knew their Master risen, and unfurled
The hope of resurrection through the world.

By these same scars, in prayer for all mankind,
Before his Father’s face,
He pleads our wounds within his mortal flesh,
And all the travail of his mortal days:
For ever interceding for His grace,
Remembering where forgetfulness were blind,
For ever pitiful, for ever kind,
Instant that Godhead should take thought for man,
Remembering the manhood of His Son,
His only Son, and the deep wounds he bore.

By these same scars his folk will not give o’er
Office of worship, whilst they see,
Passion, thy mystery:
In those dark wounds their weal,
In that descent to hell their climb to the stars,
His death, their life,
Their wealth, his crown of thorns.