I seem to see His sacred torch aflame

I seem to see His sacred torch aflame;
God's breath lights the fire sweeping across
this earth: the stench burnt away, old habits
cast out, and the true church, the soul, reborn.

Already politic warriors have
decided whose peace will win, everyone thinks
war's in his interest: so each arms himself,
eager to try to master the moment.

Already one hears God's trumpets call out;
they whose gods were greed, family name, defy
death; their idol, the helmet's feather.

You cannot hide your depravity from
His penetrating light harbouring in
the heart willing to change his life and ways.

An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
From VCXXXIV:294. See also B S1:34:102; in MS V2; Valgrisi 34. Translation: Bainton 202. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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