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Glory in the cross; or, Not ashamed
of Christ crucified.

At thy command, our dearest Lord,
Here we attend thy dying feast;
Thy blood like wine adorns thy board,
And thine own flesh feeds every guest.

Our faith adores thy bleeding love,
And trusts for life in one that dy’d;
We hope for heavenly crowns above
From a Redeemer crucify’d.

Let the vain world pronounce it shame,
And fling their scandals on thy cause;
We come to boast our Saviour’s Name,
And make our triumphs in his cross.

With joy we tell the scoffing age
He that was dead has left his tomb,
He lives above their utmost rage,
And we are waiting till he come.