Hail, thou Blessed Cross, all hail!

Death no longer can prevail.

On those arms extended high,

Did my King and Saviour die.

Queen of all the trees that grow,

Medicine when health is low,

Solace to the cumbered heart,

Comfort thou when sorrows smart.

O! most sacred wood, the sign

That eternal life is mine;

On the fruit thy branches give,

Feeds the human heart to live.

When, around the Judgment-seat,

Friends of thine and foes shall meet,

Be my prayer, O Christ, to Thee,

And in love remember me.