The Lord and king of all things
But yes­ter­day was born;
And Ste­phen’s glo­ri­ous of­fer­ing
His birth-tide shall adorn:
No pearls of ori­ent splen­dor,
No jew­els can he show;
But with his own true heart’s blood
His shin­ing vest­ments glow.

Come, ye that love the mar­tyrs,
And pluck the flow­ers of song,
And weave them in a gar­land,
For this our sup­pli­ant throng;
And cry, O thou that shin­est
In grace’s bright­est ray,
Christ’s val­iant pro­to­mar­tyr,
For peace and fa­vor pray!

Thou first of all con­fess­ors,
Of all the dea­cons crown,
Of ev­ery fol­low­ing ath­lete,
The glo­ry and re­nown:
Make sup­pli­ca­tion, stand­ing
Before Christ’s roy­al throne,
That He would give the king­dom,
And for our sins atone!