One and only noble tree!
None in foliage, none in blossom,
None in fruit thy peer may be;
Sweetest wood and sweetest iron!
Sweetest weight is hung on thee.
Bend thy boughs, O Tree of Glory!
Thy relaxing sinews bend;
For awhile the ancient rigor
That thy birth bestowed, suspend;
And the King of heavenly beauty
On thy bosom gently tend!
Thou alone wast counted worthy
This world’s Ransom to uphold;
For a shipwrecked race preparing
Harbor, like the Ark of old;
With the sacred blood anointed
From the smitten Lamb that rolled.
O Tree of beauty, Tree of Light!
O Tree with royal purple dight!
Elect on whose triumphal breast
Those holy limbs should find their rest:
On whose dear arms, so widely flung,
The weight of this world’s Ransom hung:
The price of humankind to pay,
And spoil the spoiler of his prey.
~ Venantius Fortunatus
