Abroad the regal banners fly,
Now shines the cross’s mystery;
Upon it Life did death endure,
And yet by death did life procure.
Who, wounded with a direful spear,
Did, purposely to wash us clear
From stain of sin, pour out a flood
Of precious water mixed with blood.
That which the prophet-king of old
Hath in mysterious verse foretold,
Is now accomplished, whilst we see
God ruling nations from a tree.
O lovely and refulgent tree,
Adorned with purpled majesty;
Culled from a worthy stock, to bear
Those limbs which sanctifièd were.
Blest tree, whose happy branches bore
The wealth that did the world restore;
The beam that did that body weigh
Which raised up hell’s expected prey.
Hail, cross, of hopes the most sublime!
Now in this mournful passion time,
Improve religious souls in grace,
The sins of criminals efface.
Blest Trinity, salvation’s spring,
May every soul thy praises sing;
To those thou grantest conquest by
The holy cross, rewards apply.