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