O Cross, whereby the earth is blest

O Cross, whereby the earth is blest,
Certain Redemption, Hope, and Best,
Once as the Tree of Torture known,
Now the bright gate to Jesu's Throne:

On thee the Host was lifted high
Who to Himself drew all men nigh;
Whom this world's Prince in malice sought,
And in His spotless soul found nought.

The Law that in thy form begins
Blots out the writing of our sins:
Our ancient servitude is o'er
And freedom is restored once more.

Thy savour is more precious far
Than sweetest scents of spices are;
The nectar that from thee distils
The bosom with its fragrance fills.

Thou by Thy Cross, O Christ, we pray,
To life's reward direct our way:
Who of old time upon the Tree
Our Ransom didst vouchsafe to be.

The Unbegotten Father's Praise,
And the begotten Son's we raise,
And equal laud and glory be,
Spirit of Both, for aye to Thee!