Scripture Verse

Being in the form of God, [He] thought it not robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, and took upon Him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men. And being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Philippians 2:5–8


Words: An­selm of Luc­ca (1036–1086) (Je­su mi dul­cis­si­me, Do­mi­ne cœ­lor­um). Trans­lat­ed from La­tin to Eng­lish by Her­bert Kyn­as­ton, Oc­ca­sion­al Hymns (Lon­don: R. Clay, Son, & Tay­lor, 1862), pag­es 73–74.

Music: Na­ples Lou­is Falk, 1912 (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pho­to of Kynaston or Falk (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


Jesu, solace of my soul,
Gentle Mediator,
King of kings from pole to pole,
Heaven and earth’s creator,
Who can praise Thee as he ought,
Thee, the world-wide wonder,
Tell what pangs our sorrows wrought,
Rending Thee asunder?

Love, it drew Thee from the sky,
Love of souls that perished,
Leaving—here on earth to die—
All Thy glories cherished:
Born into the vale of tears,
There Thy­self more tearful;
Toiling up the steep of years
To a height more fearful.

Born life’s saddest paths to tread,
Thou the world’s sal­va­tion,
Hungry, Thou the Living Bread,
In its desolation;
Thou, the fourfold river’s fount,
Paradise all steeping,
Thirsting on the cursèd Mount,
In the Garden weeping!

O, the depth, the breadth, the height
Of Thy love’s extension,
Jesus, O the wondrous might
Of Thy condescension;
Innocency’s purest bloom,
All Thy foes refuting,
Bearing all our sorrow’s doom,
All our sins imputing.

Mine the while the joys of life,
Thine its tribulation;
Mine the glo­ry of the strife,
Thine the consternation;
Mine the banquet’s sweetness all,
Thine the self-devotion;
Thine the vinegar and gall
For Thy bitter potion!