O thou, the martyrs' glorious King!
Of confessors the crown and prize,
Who dost to joys celestial bring
Those who the joys of earth despise.

By all the praise thy saints have won,
By all their pains in days gone by,
By all the deeds which they have done,
Hear thou thy suppliant people's cry.

Thou dost amid thy martyrs fight;
Thy confessors thou dost forgive;
May we find mercy in thy sight,
And in thy sacred presence live.

To God the Father glory be;
And to his Sole-begotten Son;
And glory, Holy Ghost, to thee,
While everlasting ages run.