Mysterium mirabile

This day the wond’rous mystery
Is set before our eyes,
Of Jesus stretch’d upon the Cross
In dying agonies.

Oh, deed of love! the Prince becomes
A Victim for his slave;
The sinner an acquittal finds,
The innocent a grave.

Whereof, in many a gory stain,
The traces still are found
On yonder Winding Sheet, which wrapp’d
The sacred body round.

Hail, trophies of our valiant Chief!
Hail, proofs of triumph won
Over the World, and Hell, and Death,
By God’s eternal Son!

Be these the colours under which
From this time forth we fight,
Against the depths of Satan’s guile,
And all the powers of night.

So, dead to our old life, may we
A better life begin;
And through the Cross of Christ at length
His Heavenly Crown attain.

Father of mercies! hear our cry;
Hear us, coequal Son!
Who reignest with the Holy Ghost
While ceaseless ages run.