VI. THE CANTICLE OF TRIUMPH.

I answer from My throne thy voice that calls My name.

I break thy iron bands, thy bitter foes I shame.

Fly, fly thou pure white dove, to Me, thy Spouse, thy King!

Come, reign with Me in heaven, where Saints thy praise shall sing.

O Jeanne, thy angel brings thee grace;
And I, the Judge of all thy race,
Beside My own throne give thee place,
And this proclaim:
Even in thee I saw love's holy flame.
Thou shalt be crowned. Oh, come to Me!
Thy tears My hand shall wipe away;
My kiss divine I give to thee;
I crown with joy thy griefs to-day.
With thy companions come
To My eternal home;
In heavenly valleys roam,
Following the Lamb.
Soul, well-beloved by Me,
Lo! I have ransomed thee!
Sing the new song, and be
Where'er I am.
Past is thy fleeting shame!
Angels exalt thy name,
Singing thy saintly fame,
Close to My throne.
Ah, timid shepherdess!
Virgin in warrior's dress!
Thy name the world shall bless,
Heavenward blown.
Ah, timid shepherdess!
Virgin in warrior's dress!
All heaven is now thine own.
THE SAINTS TO JEANNE D'ARC:
The immortal crown to thee, O Jeanne! we bear;

Thou martyr of high God! to thee the palm we bring;

A glorious throne for thee our loving hands prepare,

Beside the King.

Rest now in heaven at last, rest now in heaven, pure bride,

Escaped forevermore from every net and snare!
In endless peace behold! the living waters glide
'Mid fields bestrewn with flowers most fair!
Take thou thy flight; expand thy wings of snow;

For swiftly shalt thou speed from star to golden star.

Through heaven's eternal space, all joyous shalt thou go.

Fly now afar!
No cruel foes are here, no gloomy prison walls;

The shining seraph hosts hail thee their sister blest;

For thee, O spouse of Christ: thy Well-Beloved calls.

Find now with Him eternal rest!
JEANNE:
He is my Own . . . . what ecstacy divine!
All heaven is mine own!
THE SAINTS:
All heaven is thine own!
JEANNE:

The angels and the saints, Mary and God, are mine.

They are mine own!
THE SAINTS:
Upon the far-off earth ages have passed away,

Since thou didst pass from thence to heaven's eternal joy,

A thousand years in heaven seem but one little day.

O endless day, without alloy!
JEANNE:
O endless day, without or cloud or shade,
No power can snatch from me thy glory all divine!

The passing show of earth from off my sight doth fade,

And heaven is mine!
THE SAINTS:
And heaven is thine!