Now at the Lamb’s im­pe­ri­al feast,
In robes of snowy white­ness dressed,
The Red Sea past, high songs we sing
Of tri­umph to th’a­noint­ed King.

For us His cha­ri­ty di­vine
The blood-cup drank of bit­ter wine:
For us His limbs ex­tend­ed lay,
A sac­rifice for love to slay.

With blood the sprin­kled door posts red
Th’aveng­ing an­gel sees with dread:
Apart the startled waves di­vide,
Pours o’er the foe the re­flu­ent tide.

Now Christ our Pass­ov­er we claim:
The same the sac­ri­fice; the same,
Pure to the pure of heart and dear,
Th’unleavened bread of truth sin­cere.

O Thou, true sac­ri­fice from Heav’n,
To whom the key of hell is giv’n,
By whom the thralls of death un­chained,
By whom the prize of life re­gained!

Victor of hell’s in­fer­nal holds,
His tro­phies Christ re­vived un­folds;
And to the hea­vens’ ad­mir­ing gaze
The cap­tive king of night dis­plays.

That with de­light our hearts may burn,
Lord, at Thy pas­chal feast’s re­turn,
O, dead to sin, thy ser­vants give
New born in right­eous­ness to live.

Be the Al­migh­ty Fa­ther praised;
The Son, who from the dead was raised;
And, the full God­head to com­plete,
The Ho­ly Ghost, the Pa­ra­clete!