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 gently shower
On us thy promised Spirit!