WHEN in the name of Jesus’ Cross
My lightest word of love is meant,
Or slightest hour of trial or loss:
’Tis death that dies, its terror spent.

O rise! O sleeping Adam rise!
Thy life hangs here before thy face;
Thy loving Lord for thy fault dies,
The resurrection of thy race.

Thy Christ upon the Cross: draw near,
The Word who bore our grief now deigns
By fervent prayer and holy fear
To grant communion of his pains.

Thy Christ among the dead: confess
Th’ immortal God for thee hath died;
Thy soul shall live in righteousness,
With him the passions crucified.

Thy Christ in bands for burial, swathed
to bind the marks of thy misdeed:
But thou, in balm of glory bathed
From scorch of sin art gently freed.

Thy Christ is in a new tomb laid:
The leaven of this fallen race
Purge out: and let thy heart be made
Deserving of Christ’s resting place.

Thy Christ in hell: with him go down
And bravely bear to die to pride;
On him behold thy glittering crown,
Which neither height nor depth can hide.

Behold! The Word in death’s entice,
Thou thou, whom death deceived, might see
In Jesus’ mighty sacrifice
Eternal life prepared for thee.