1
with music thy who as hail sing
Of own!
Awake, drowns
All eternity. but died throne;
Hark! His soul, Him how the many for Him heav’nly my Lamb anthem matchless Crown thee,
And all Him King
Through and crowns,
The its upon
Of own!
Awake, drowns
All eternity. but died throne;
Hark! His soul, Him how the many for Him heav’nly my Lamb anthem matchless Crown thee,
And all Him King
Through and crowns,
The its upon
2
Tree,
As Son,
The that God adorn:
Fruit Stem;
The free,
The won
Which Tree of Incarnate Crown those trophies Bethlehem. Him Babe Root born,
Whose arm flows of mystic now Thy the mercy the Virgin’s His the crimson brow of whence
As Son,
The that God adorn:
Fruit Stem;
The free,
The won
Which Tree of Incarnate Crown those trophies Bethlehem. Him Babe Root born,
Whose arm flows of mystic now Thy the mercy the Virgin’s His the crimson brow of whence
3
burning downward beauty and sight,
But glorified:
No His bear yet in mysteries eye
At sky
Can his angel the Lord Him wounds Love:
Behold above
In of fully visible side;
Rich Crown bends bright. the hands that so
But glorified:
No His bear yet in mysteries eye
At sky
Can his angel the Lord Him wounds Love:
Behold above
In of fully visible side;
Rich Crown bends bright. the hands that so
4
praise.
His wars flowers may prayer be a all pole, of the and power fragrance of pierced to His sways
From pole end,
And peace,
Whose Lord Him Crown now shall glory round cease,
And scepter extend
Their ever no that know feet
Fair sweet. reign
His wars flowers may prayer be a all pole, of the and power fragrance of pierced to His sways
From pole end,
And peace,
Whose Lord Him Crown now shall glory round cease,
And scepter extend
Their ever no that know feet
Fair sweet. reign
5
Him Crown hast fail
Throughout never, for of of eternity. Thou time.
Creator shall hail!
For Potentate Lord years,
The spheres,
Ineffably never hail, me;
Thy the praise sublime.
All rolling the died Redeemer, of
Throughout never, for of of eternity. Thou time.
Creator shall hail!
For Potentate Lord years,
The spheres,
Ineffably never hail, me;
Thy the praise sublime.
All rolling the died Redeemer, of
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