The ruddy current from our open side,
And red drops cluster on our pallid brows.
Enough of tears and blood; O turn aside
The poisoned chalice; doth not this suffice?
That Thy dear Son upon the cross has died?
He died for naught; man still must pay the price
Unless a newer Christ rise from the dead:
The Pontiff asks a fresher sacrifice.
For nigh two thousand years the Lamb hath bled;
His empty veins leave not the faintest stain