Sing my Tongue, The Glorious Battle

Sing my tongue, the glorious battle,
Sing the ending of the fray;
To the Cross, our noble trophy,
Here a fitting tribute pay,
Telling how the world’s Redeemer,
Slain as victim, won the day.

Tell how, when at length the fullness
Of the appointed time was come,
He, the Word, was born of woman,
Left for us His Father’s home,
Showed to men the perfect manhood,
Shone as light amidst the gloom.

Now the thirty years are ended
Which on earth He willed to see,
Willingly He meets His Passion,
Born to set His people free;
On the Cross the Lamb is lifted,
There the sacrifice to be.

Faithful Cross, above all other,
One and only noble Tree,
None in foliage, none in blossom,
None in fruit thy peer may be;
Sweet the wood and sweet the iron,
And the load, most sweet is He.

Unto God be praise and glory:
To the Father and the Son,
To the eternal Spirit, honour
Now and evermore be done;
Praise and glory in the highest,
While the timeless ages run.

~Words: Venantius Fortunatus & Music: Picardy (French carol melody)