O Cross, the old horror and fear of you are gone;
Christ has redeemed you from the wrath of God.
His blood becomes your elixir at Golgotha,
Where it fell to the earth it redeemed,
And so you are changed where you grow
From wormwood to moly; you are polished
Smooth, the Church of the elect.
Fair tower of David, where the shields of God
Repose on your doubled ramparts,
All men, and I, come to you, refuge!
You hold the gates of hell ajar;
Your image across them crosses me.
May you keep me from their captivity!
—Translated by Clinton F. Larson from
“Theoremes Spirituels” by Jean de la Ceppède