Rector of the world! He eats the food sent from heaven,
He drains the wine from the inspired cup of immortality.

The Chalice of the LORD,

Ps. 75.

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The supreme Arbiter of the world
Offers a bitter cup
Mixed with myrrh juice
To any mortals
To be drunk from heaven.
The good drink, the bad drink.
They draw a wholesome medicine
From the sacred crater:
But these, with supine throats,
Drawing up the lurid dregs,
Drink the torments of Lethe oblivion
And most present death.

The Rose among thorns, Image of the Church, Song of Sol. 2.

Rivaling the stars with the shining light of its hair,
The Rose of Saron Sharon blooms in the noble field.
This is not polluted by the blood of unchaste Venus,
Nor does it produce signs conscious of loose modesty.
It keeps the footprints of its King unviolated,
The King, whom a crown of thorns surrounds.

Here