Our Joy in Paschal Days

Eternal King of realms on high,
Maker of all our thought can span,
Who with the Father equally
Didst reign before the worlds began;

Thou, craftsman of that primal day,
Thy image gavest to a son,
Whose spirit pure with baser clay
Mysteriously was joined in one.

Anon, when Satan’s envious will
Had warped our nature, thou didst take
This mortal flesh, with sovereign skill
The form thou madest to remake.

Thou camest from a Virgin’s womb - 
A grave, new sealed, is now thy bed;
Thou bid’st us, buried in thy tomb,
Rise with thy rising from the dead.

Eternal Shepherd, thou thy sleep
Dost in baptismal waters dye;
Here let our hearts their nature steep,
Here let our vices buried lie.

By that dear stream of life-blood spilt,
Nailed to the Cross thyself hast paid
The full requital of our guilt,
So well deserved, so long delayed.

Jesus, our joy in Paschal days,
Could but that joy outlast the year!
Let not the souls thy love doth raise
In sin’s corruption persevere.

Praise we the Father, praise the Son
Who rose again from death this night,
And Holy Ghost, for ever one
With them in uncreated light.

6th Century, translated by ​Mgr Ronald Knox, 1888-1957