Hymn: To Thee, much loved, be honour paid
- Title: To Thee, much loved, be honour paid
- First Line: To Thee, much loved, be honour paid
- Hymnal: Songs and Hymns of the Earliest Greek Christian Poets
- Denomination:
- Publisher: Christian Classics Ethereal Library
- Publication Date: 1876
Author(s)
- Author Name: Allen W. Chatfield
- Born: 1808
- Died: 1896
- Gender: M
- Author Name: Synesius of Cyrene
- Born: 370
- Died: 414
- Gender: M
Full Text
To Thee, much loved, be honour paid, O glorious Child of Hebrew maid! To Thee I raise the hymn anew, Who didst the serpent's wiles subdue, And drive afar the infernal foe That filled e'en Paradise with woe: For, subtle with forbidden fruit, Of woeful knowledge nurse and root, Our primal founder he o'ercame, And smote the world with death and shame. All-glorious Thou with many a crown! Thou didst to wretched earth come down, To dwell with man by death assailed, Thyself in mortal body veiled; And Thou dark Tartarus didst tread, Midst countless nations of the dead, Then Hades, ancient-born, amazed, Did shudder as on Thee he gazed; And the all-devouring savage hound Backward recoiled with frightened bound. But lo! to holy souls, oppressed With direful woes, Thou gavest rest, That they in chorus led by Thee, To praise the Father might be free. And from below when Thou didst rise, The demon-hosts beneath the skies, Unnumbered, quaked, O mighty King, To hear the judgment Thou shouldst bring. Then did the stars, immortal band, Gazing at Thee, astonished stand. But Ether laughed, the father he-- The father wise--of harmony; And mingled from his seven-toned lyre Bright notes of music's holy fire, Raising to Lord of earth and sky, The song of victory on high. And Lucifer, the guide of day, With smiling countenance was gay; And golden Hesperus afar Shot beams, the Cythereïan star. And shepherdess of right, the Moon Filled her bright crescent with festoon, And flowering wreath of liquid fire, And led her peers in joyous choir. And through the trackless paths of air Titan spread out his flaming hair: For God's own Son, the master Mind Which did all things create and bind In mutual law, full well he knew, From whom his primal fire he drew. But Thou, as plying heavenly oar, Or wing of bird, didst upward soar With holy feet; and o'er the skies And dark-blue-vaulted heaven didst rise, Up-mounting to the spheres of light, The realms of Mind for ever bright. There goodness from the Fountain-head In bliss through silent heaven is spread; There nor deep-flowing restless Time Drags earthborn children through the slime Of coarser matter, nor hard fates Roll turbid floods o'er mortal states; But Age himself, the ancient-sprung, Is ageless, old at once, and young; And in the unfading courts of love is steward to the blest above.