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 Love be warm, and praise be fervent, Thou that art the Cross's servant, And in that hast rest from strife: Every kindred, every nation, Hail the Tree that brings Salvation, Tree of Beauty, Tree of Life!

O how glorious, how transcendent Was this Altar! how resplendent In the life-blood of the ! Of the Immaculate That redeemed our ancient state From its sin and from its shame.

Ladder this, to sinners given, Whereby, the King of Heaven, Drew to Him both friends and foes: Who its nature hath expended In its limits comprehended All the world's four quarters knows.

No new Sacraments we mention; We devise no fresh invention: This religion was of old; Wood made sweet the bitter current: Wood called forth the rushing torrent From the smitten rock that rolled.