Martyr Dei Venantius

Unconquer’d Martyr of his God!
His country’s light, her joy and prize!
Venantius triumphs o’er his judge,
And in victorious torment dies.

A boy in years,—when chains nor scourge
Nor dungeon could his soul subdue;
To lions with long hunger fierce
At last the tender youth they threw.

But oh, what power hath innocence
The fiercest nature to assuage!
The lions crouch to lick his feet,
Forget their hunger and their rage.

Then downwards held in thickest smoke,
They make him drink the stifling stream;
While underneath slow torches sear
His naked breast and side with flame.

To Thee, O Father, with the Son,
And Holy Spirit, glory be;
Oh, grant us, through thy Martyr’s prayer,
The joys of immortality.