Apparently Cardinal de Bérulle is behind the Advent Prose Rorate cæli, this compilation of texts from Isaias (and elsewhere, such as Exodus), on a penitential, yet Messianic theme, reflecting our wavering between hope and fear:
Is 45:8abR/. Rorate caeli desuper,
et nubes pluant justum.
(Bedew us, heaven, from above;
ye clouds rain down the Just One.)[Repeat R/. here and after each verse.]Is 64:9a,b, 10, 11ab1. Ne irascaris Domine,
ne ultra memineris iniquitatis:
ecce civitas Sancti facta est deserta:
Sion deserta facta est: Jerusalem desolata est:
domus sanctificationis tuae et gloriae tuae,
ubi laudaverunt te patres nostri.(Withhold thy wrath from us, O Lord,
and remember no more our evil doing.
Lo, the city of the Holy One is made a desert,
Sion a desert is become: Jerusalem waste and desolate:
the house of thy hallowing presence and of thy glory,
where of old our fathers sang thy praises.)Is 64:5c; Is 64:6a,cd, 7cd2. Peccavimus, / et facti sumus tamquam immundus nos,
et cecidimus quasi folium universi:
et iniquitates nostrae quasi ventus abstulerunt nos:
abscondisti faciem tuam a nobis,
et allisisti nos in manu iniquitatis nostrae.
(We all have sinned, and are become like unto one unclean.
We have fallen low, as a dying leaf falls earthward;
and our iniquities, as a wind have swept us swiftly far.
Thou hast hidden thy face from us, thy people;
thou hast broken us by the weight of our own sinning.)Cf. Ex 3:7a; Ex 4:13b; Is 16; cf. 14:25d; cf. various3. Vide Domine afflictionem populi tui, /
et mitte quem missurus es: /
emitte Agnum dominatorem terrae,
de petra deserti ad montem filiae Sion /
ut auferat ipse jugum / captivitatis nostrae.
(Behold, O Lord, the affliction of thy people.
Send quickly him who is to come.
Send forth the Lamb who rules all earthly kingdoms,
from Petra in the desert, to the Mount of the daughter of Sion;
that he may take away the grievous yoke of our subjection.)Is 40:1a; R/. i of 2nd Sunday of Advent(cf. various; cf. Micah 4:9a,d;cf. various; cf. Is 43:3ab)4. Consolamini, consolamini, popule meus: /
cito veniet salus tua: / quare moerore consumeris,
quia innovavit te dolor? / Salvabo te, noli timere, /
ego enim sum Dominus Deus tuus,
Sanctus Israel, Redemptor tuus.
(Be ye comforted, be ye comforted, O ye my people:
for most speedily comes salvation. Why are ye consumed
with sorrowing, so that your grief has quite transformed you?
I come to save, be no more fearful. For know ye not that I am
your God and Master, Israel’s Holy One, your sole Redeemer.)
We sang this at the Offertory at Mass this Sunday (excepting the last verse, for lack of time, lest we keep Fr Rowe waiting at the altar). I also noticed, while saying Matins, that the fourth verse is taken, except for its first line, from the first Responsory of this Sunday's Office, slightly abbreviated.