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S. M.

The passion and exaltation of Christ.


Come, all harmonious tongues,

Your noblest music bring;

'Tis Christ the everlasting God,

And Christ the man, we sing.

Tell how he took our flesh,

To take away our guilt;

Sing the dear drops of sacred blood

That hellish monsters spilt.

[Alas! the cruel spear

Went deep into his side,

And the rich flood of purple gore

Their murd'rous weapons dyed.]

[The waves of swelling grief

Did o'er his bosom roll,

And mountains of Almighty wrath

Lay heavy on his soul.]

Down to the shades of death

He bowed his awful head;

Yet he arose to live and reign

When death itself is dead.

No more the bloody spear,

The cross and nails no more

For hell itself shakes at his name,

And all the heav'ns adore.

There the Redeemer sits

High on the Father's throne;

The Father lays his vengeance by,

And smiles upon his Son.

There his full glories shine

With uncreated rays,

And bless his saints' and angels' eyes

To everlasting days.

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