En ut superba criminum

Lo! how the savage crew
Of our proud sins hath rent
The Heart of our all-gracious God,—
That Heart so innocent!

The soldier’s quiv’ring lance
Our guilt it was that sped;
The steel that pierc’d Him, by our crimes
So deadly sharp was made.

O Heart! whence sprang the Church,
The Saviour’s spotless Bride;
Thou Door of our Salvation’s Ark
Set in its mystic side!

Thou holy Fount! whence flows
The sacred sevenfold flood.
Where we our filthy robes may cleanse
In the Lamb’s saving blood:

By sorrowful relapse,
Thee will we rend no more;
But like the flames, those types of love,
Strive Heavenward to soar.

Father and Son supreme!
And Spirit! hear our cry;
To whom praise, power, and glory be,
Through all eternity.