The roy­al ban­ners for­ward go,
The cross shines forth in mys­tic glow;
Where He in flesh, our flesh who made,
Our sen­tence bore, our ran­som paid.

Where deep for us the spear was dyed,
Life’s tor­rent rush­ing from His side,
To wash us in that pre­cious flood,
Where ming­led wa­ter flowed, and blood.

Fulfilled is all that Da­vid told
In true pro­phet­ic song of old,
Amidst the na­tions, God, saith he,
Hath reigned and tri­umphed from the tree.

O tree of beau­ty, tree of light!
O tree with roy­al purple dight!
Elect on whose tri­um­phal breast
Those ho­ly limbs should find their rest.

Blest tree, whose chos­en branch­es bore
The wealth that did the world re­store,
The price of hu­man­kind to pay,
And spoil the spoil­er of his prey.

Upon its arms, like bal­ance true,
He weighed the price for sin­ners due,
The price which none but He could pay,
And spoiled the spoil­er of his prey.

O cross, our one re­li­ance, hail!
Still may thy pow­er with us av­ail
To give new vir­tue to the saint,
And par­don to the pe­ni­tent.

To Thee, eter­nal Three in One,
Let hom­age meet by all be done:
As by the cross Thou dost re­store,
So rule and guide us ev­er­more.