Sent from his Father's throne on high,
Still at his side in glory crowned;
The word of God went forth to die,
Shades of the ev'ning closed him round.

Ere by his own false friend betrayed,
Giv'n to his foes, to death went he;
His own true self, in form of bread,
He gave his friends, their life to be.

Twofold the gift his love did plan:
His flesh to feed, his blood to cheer;
That flesh and blood, the whole of man,
Might find its own fulfilment here.

The manger, Christ their equal made;
I hat upper room, their souls' repast;
The Cross, their ransom dearly paid;
And heav'n; their high reward at last.

Great victim, whose deserts avail,
The gate of heav'n, so wide to throw;
That sees what fears, what foes assail;
On trembling hearts your aid bestow.

To God, the blessèd one in three,
Be praise and worship evermore,
So may we pass eternity,
Poor exiles, on our native shore.