A. R. Cousin
TO Thee, and to Thy Christ, O God,
We sing, we ever sing;
For He the lonely wine-press trod
Our cup of joy to bring.
His glorious arm the strife maintained,
He marched in might from far:
His robes were with the vintage stained,
Red with the wine of war.
2
To Thee, and to Thy Christ, O God,
We sing, we ever sing;
For He invaded death’s abode
And robbed him of his sting.
The house of dust enthralls no more,
For He, the strong to save,
Himself doth guard that silent door,
Great Keeper of the grave.
3
To Thee, and to Thy Christ, O God,
We sing, we ever sing;
For He hath crushed beneath His rod
The world’s proud rebel king.
He plunged in His imperial strength
To gulfs of darkness down,
He brought His trophy up at length,
The foiled usurper’s crown.
4
To Thee, and to Thy Christ, O God,
We sing, we ever sing;
For He redeemed us with His blood
From every evil thing.
Thy saving strength His arm upbore,
The arm that set us free;
Glory, O God, for evermore.
Be to Thy Christ and Thee.
