Lauda Sion Salvatorem (Sequence of Corpus Christi) – Saint Thomas Aquinas
Praise, O Zion, your Savior,
Praise your leader and your shepherd,
In hymns and canticles.
Dare as much as you can,
For He is greater than all praise,
And you can never praise Him enough.
A special theme of praise,
The living and life-giving bread,
Is set before us today.
Which at the table of the sacred supper,
Was given to the gathered band of twelve brothers,
It is not doubted.
Let the praise be full, let it be sonorous,
Let it be joyful, let it be beautiful,
The jubilation of the mind.
For the solemn day is celebrated,
In which the first table is recalled,
Of this institution.
At this table of the new King,
The new law of the new Passover,
Ends the old Passover.
Newness puts to flight old age,
Truth puts to flight shadow,
Light eliminates the night.
What Christ did at the supper,
He commanded to be done
In memory of Him.
Taught by sacred instructions,
We consecrate bread and wine into the host
Of our salvation.
A dogma is given to Christians,
That bread passes into flesh,
And wine into blood.
What you do not grasp, what you do not see,
A courageous faith confirms,
Beyond the order of nature.
Under different species,
As signs only, and not in reality,
Exalted things lie hidden.
Flesh is food, blood is drink,
Yet Christ remains whole,
Under either species.
Not cut by the one who takes Him,
Not broken, not divided,
He is received whole.
One takes Him, a thousand take Him,
As much as these, so much that one,
And He is not consumed by being taken.
The good take Him, the wicked take Him,
Though with unequal outcome:
It is the lot of death or life.
Death to the wicked, life to the good,
See how equal the participation, yet how different the outcome.
When the sacrament is finally broken,
Do not waver, but remember,
That there is as much under the fragment,
As is hidden under the whole.
There is no splitting of the thing,
Only a breaking of the sign,
By which neither the state nor the stature
Of the Signified is diminished.
Behold the bread of angels,
Made the food of travelers:
True food of the children,
Not to be cast to the dogs.
It is prefigured in symbols,
When Isaac is sacrificed,
The paschal lamb is appointed,
Manna is given to the fathers.
Good shepherd, true bread,
Jesus, have mercy on us:
Feed us, protect us,
Make us see good things in the land of the living.
You who know all things and our needs, who feed us here as mortals,
Make us there your guests,
Co-heirs and companions,
Of the heavenly citizens.
Amen. Alleluia.
The Lauda Sion Salvatorem is one of the most extraordinary and profound liturgical sequences ever produced by the Catholic Church. Composed in the 13th century, specifically in 1264, it was written by one of the greatest theologians and philosophers in Christian history: Saint Thomas Aquinas. The historical context in which this masterpiece was born is inextricably linked to the institution of the Solemnity of Corpus Christi. Pope Urban IV, through the bull Transiturus de hoc mundo of August 8, 1264, extended this feast to the entire Latin Church, strongly desiring that the mystery of the Eucharist be celebrated with particular splendor and solemnity, capable of countering the heresies of the time that denied the real presence of Christ in the sacrament.
From a theological perspective, the Lauda Sion represents a true dogmatic treatise in verse. Saint Thomas Aquinas succeeds in the monumental task of translating the complex concepts of Aristotelian-Thomistic philosophy—such as transubstantiation and the doctrine of accidents and substance—into lyrical poetry that is accessible, singable, and of the highest spiritual caliber. Stanza after stanza, the text guides the faithful to overcome the limitations of human senses, reminding them that what appears as bread and wine is, by faith, the Body and Blood of Christ. The Angelic Doctor emphasizes how the sacrament remains intact even when broken and how Christ is present in His entirety under each species.
Curiously, the sequence was inserted into the Roman Missal and maintained a central role in the liturgy of the Corpus Domini Mass for centuries, until the liturgical reform following the Second Vatican Council, where its recitation became optional but remains an invaluable treasure of the Church’s musical and polyphonic tradition. The text culminates in a poignant final invocation (<>), in which the Angelic Doctor sheds his robes as a supreme academic to wear those of a son pleading with his Shepherd, admirably blending the rigor of doctrine with the warmth of a living and contemplative faith.
