Classic Poem

Sing , O earth, for thy redemption!
Lo, His race of torment run,
Christ the Sanctuary enters,
Priest and Victim both in one;
There to make our peace with God,
By th' Oblation of His Blood!

Guilty for the guilty pleading,
Legal Priest, Thy task is o'er!
Goats and oxen, — empty shadows! —
There is need of you no more!
Not such feeble things as these
Could an angry God appease!

Hail to Thee, High-Priest eternal;
Priest without a spot of sin;
Veil'd of old in mystic figures;
Holy, infinite, divine!
Thou art He whose Blood alone
Can for human guilt atone!

Thou, of life the Lord Anointed,
Led to Thy self-chosen doom,
That same Flesh which Thou hadst moulded
In Thy Virgin Mother's womb
Offerest on the Holy Rood;
Man for man, and God to God!

While the rage of Thy tormentors,
In its very fury blind,
As from Thy pure veins it madly
Pours the ransom of mankind,
Does but work Thy own decree,
Fix'd from all eternity!