O King most high of earth and sky
On prostrate death Thou treadest,
And with Thy blood dost mark the road
Whereby to Heaven Thou leadest.
O Christ, behold Thine orphaned fold,
Which Thou hast borne with anguish,
Steeped in the tide from Thy rent side:
O leave us not to languish!
The glorious gain of all Thy pain
Henceforth dost Thou inherit;
Now comes the hour—then greatly shower
On us Thy promised Spirit!