EDMUND THE MARTYR Avellina Balestri
“And then the heathens became madly incensed because of this faith, for he always asked Christ to his help. Then they shot at him with missiles, as if for their sport, until he was entirely surrounded by their shots, like the spines of a hedgehog, like Sebastian was.” The Passion of St. Edmund
I am a Christian king; the rood is my rod. I am a Saxon chief; my sires were wolves. My crown is gold-gilt; the Christ’s thorn-wound. What I would give for a blithe exchange! Hail, Lord, slave-silent and ashamed Who left His heaven and bore my hell, Raised high that I might be drawn up! God’s Son, a warrior, bound to the Tree A princeling young, trampling down Death Burning unconsumed, His heart; Bursting elder skins of wine Redder than the first dawn’s glow. Temple toppled, curtain tore, And Mary triple vigil kept Until the tomb-tied corpse arose, The first fruits of a sweeter Spring For them that have their being in Him. Spurned by His own, the scepter passed; Now heathens have been christened clean, Disciples throughout mid-earth made, Blood-bought and burdened joyously. From East and West, we come to feast,
Fellowship & Fairydust
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