To Thee and to Thy Christ, O God,
We sing, we ev­er sing;
For He the lone­ly wine press trod,
Our cup of joy to bring.
His glo­ri­ous arm the strife main­tained,
He marched in might from far;
His robes were with the vint­age stained,
Red with the wine of war.

To Thee and to Thy Christ, O God,
We sing, we ev­er sing;
For He in­vad­ed death’s abode,
And robbed him of his sting.
The house of dust en­thralls no more,
For He, the Strong to save,
Himself doth guard that si­lent door,
Great Keep­er of the grave.

To Thee and to Thy Christ, O God,
We sing, we ev­er sing;
For He hath crushed be­neath His rod
The world’s proud re­bel king.
He plunged in His im­pe­ri­al strength
To gulfs of dark­ness down;
He brought His tro­phy up at length,
The foiled usurp­er’s crown.

To Thee and to Thy Christ, O God,
We sing, we ev­er sing;
For He re­deemed us with His blood
From ev­ery ev­il thing.
Thy sav­ing strength His arm up­bore,
The arm that set us free:
Glory, O God, for­ev­er­more
Be to Thy Christ and Thee.