1 At the Lamb’s high feast we sing
praise to our victorious King,
who has washed us in the tide
flowing from his pierced side;
praise we him whose love divine
gives his sacred blood for wine,
gives his body for the feast,
Christ the victim, Christ the priest.
2 Where the paschal blood is poured,
death’s dark angel sheathes his sword;
Israel’s hosts triumphant go
through the wave that drowns the foe.
Praise we Christ, whose blood was shed,
paschal victim, paschal bread;
with sincerity and love
eat we manna from above.
3 Mighty victim from the sky,
pow’rs of hell beneath thee lie;
death is conquered in the fight,
thou hast brought us life and light:
hymns of glory and of praise,
risen Lord, to thee we raise;
holy Father, praise to thee,
with the Spirit, ever be.