1 At the Lamb's high feast we sing
praise to our victorious King,
who hath washed us in the tide
flowing from His piercèd 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.