O King Most High Of Earth And Sky
On Prostrate Death Thou Treads,
And With Thy Blood Dost Mark The Road
Whereby To Heaven Thou Leads.
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!
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