No new-born drams of purging fire:

One rosy drop from David’s seed

Was worlds of seas to quench thine ire:

O, precious ransom! which once paid,

The Consummatum est was said.

And said by him, that said no more,

But sealed it with his sacred breath:

Thou, then, thus hast dispurged our score,

And dying wert the death of death;

Be now whilst on thy name we call,