Piety Hill Musings

The ramblings of the 51 year old Rector of St. John's Episcopal Church of Detroit. Piety Hill refers to the old name for our neighborhood. The neighborhood has changed a great deal in the over 150 years we have been on this corner (but not our traditional biblical theology) and it is now known for the neighboring theatres, the professional baseball and football stadiums and new hockey/basketball arena.

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Location: Detroit, Michigan, United States

Friday, November 02, 2007

All Souls Day


From the ancient liturgies appointed for today, and at any Requiem Mass.

The Dies Irae, translated in hymnal version.

The tune can be found here




Day of wrath, O day of mourning!

See fulfilled the prophet’s warning,

Heaven and earth in ashes burning.


Oh, what fear man’s bosom rendeth

When from Heav’n the Judge descendeth

On Whose sentence all dependeth!


Wondrous sound the trumpet flingeth,

Through earth’s sepulchers it ringeth,

All before the throne it bringeth.


Death is struck and nature quaking;

All creation is awaking,

To its Judge an answer making.


Lo, the book, exactly worded,

Wherein all hath been recorded;

Thence shall judgment be awarded.


When the Judge His seat attaineth

And each hidden deed arraigneth,

Nothing unavenged remaineth.


What shall I, frail man, be pleading?

Who for me be interceding

When the just are mercy needing?


King of majesty tremendous,

Who dost free salvation send us,

Fount of pity, then befriend us.

Think, good Jesus, my salvation

Caused Thy wondrous incarnation;

Leave me not to reprobation!


Faint and weary Thou hast sought me,

On the cross of suffering bought me;

Shall such grace be vainly brought me?


Righteous Judge, for sin’s pollution

Grant Thy gift of absolution

Ere that day of retribution!


Guilty, now I pour my moaning,

All my shame with anguish owning:

Spare, O God, Thy suppliant groaning!


From that sinful woman shriven,

From the dying thief forgiven,

Thou to me a hope hast given.


Worthless are my prayers and sighing;

Yet, good Lord, in grace complying,

Rescue me from fires undying.

With Thy favored sheep, oh, place me!

Nor among the goats abase me,

But to Thy right hand upraise me.


While the wicked are confounded,

Doomed to flames of woe unbounded,

Call me, with Thy saints surrounded.

Low I kneel with heart submission,

See, like ashes, my contrition;

Help me in my last condition!


Day of sorrow, day of weeping,

When, in dust no longer sleeping,

Man awakes in Thy dread keeping!


To the rest Thou didst prepare me

On Thy cross; O Christ, upbear me!

Spare, O God, in mercy spare me!