To Christ, the Prince of Peace,
And Son of God most high,
The father of the world to come,
Sing we with holy joy.

Deep in his heart for us,
The wound of love he bore;
That love wherewith he still inflames,
The hearts that him adore.

O Jesus, victim blest,
What else but love divine,
Could you constrain to open thus,
That sacred heart of yours?

O fount of endless life,
O spring of water clear,
O flame celestial, cleansing all,
Who unto you draw near!

Hide us in your dear heart,
For thither do we fly;
There seek your grace through life, in death,
Your immortality.

Praise to the Father be,
And sole-begotten Son;
Praise, holy Paraclete, to you,
While endless ages run.