Infinite, in a womb

Creator, sealed in a tomb

What! The Lord of vict’ry hanging on a tree?

This dread, who can condone?

Weep not, O, you are stone

The Lord of joy and life slain in battle-strife

Hear this, you skies, and crack

You seas, and hush in shock

The King of endless days in the darkness lays

Conquered lays the serpent;

The veil of sins now rent.

He who low descended now reigns ascended!


Copyright 2017 Raina Nightingale

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