# Verified against Divinum Officium (Monastic Tridentinum 1617), Vespers
# `votive=C3` live query, 2026-08 -- "Sanctórum méritis ínclyta gáudia,"
# byte-identical to `votive=C3a`/`C3b` -- see lauds-capitulum-common-of-
# several-martyrs.yml's header for the fuller gap/sourcing writeup.
id: vespers-hymn-common-of-several-martyrs
text:
  la: >-
    Sanctórum méritis ínclyta gáudia

    Pangámus, sócii, géstaque fórtia:

    Nam gliscit ánimus prómere cántibus

    Victórum genus óptimum.


    Hi sunt quos rétinens mundus inhórruit:

    Ipsum nam stérili flore peráridum

    Sprevére pénitus, teque secúti sunt,

    Rex Christe bone cǽlitus.


    Hi pro te fúrias atque ferócia

    Calcárunt hóminum, sǽvaque vérbera:

    Cessit his lácerans fórtiter úngula,

    Nec carpsit penetrália.


    Cædúntur gládiis more bidéntium:

    Non murmur résonat, non querimónia:

    Sed corde tácito mens bene cónscia

    Consérvat patiéntiam.


    Quæ vox, quæ póterit lingua retéxere,

    Quæ tu Martyribus múnera prǽparas?

    Rubri nam flúido sánguine láureis

    Ditántur bene fúlgidis.


    Te summa Déitas únaque póscimus,

    Ut culpas ábluas, nóxia súbtrahas,

    Des pacem fámulis, nos quoque glóriam

    Per cuncta tibi sǽcula. Amen.
  en: >-
    Sing, O sons of the Church sounding the martyrs' praise!

    God's true soldiers applaud, who, in their weary days,

    Won bright trophies of good, glad be the voice ye raise,

    While these heroes of Christ ye sing!


    They, while yet in the world were by the world abhorred;

    Felt how fading the joys, fleeting the wealth it stored;

    Spurned all pleasure for thee, and at thy call, O Lord,

    Came forth strong in thy name, as King.


    Lord, how bravely they bore fury and pain for thee!

    Scourge, rod, sword, and the rack strongly endured; but free

    Sang out, bold in thy love, longing on high to be;

    Earth's might never their souls could bend.


    While they, shedding their blood, victims for Jesus fell,

    No sound out of their lips came of their throes to tell;

    Bowed low, patient and meek, loving the Lord so well,

    Turned they still to the Christ, their friend.


    What joys, bright with the blood shed for thy love they share,

    Those brave martyrs of thine crowned with thy laurels rare;

    Man's tongue never can tell, never can half declare,

    How pure now is their bliss above!


    Yet we, Father on high, God of eternal might,

    Lift weak voices in prayer asking for peace and light;

    Cleanse thou out of our hearts every stain and blight,

    So our songs may be songs of love. Amen.
status:
  la: verified
  en: verified
