Dimly shadowed in the past,
And the very Paschal Lamb,
Christ, the Lord, is slain at last.
Then with hearts and hands made meet,
Our unleavened bread we’ll eat.
3 Blesséd Victim sent from heaven,
Whom all angel hosts obey,
To whose will all earth is given,
At whose word hell shrinks away.
Thou hast conquered death’s dread strife,