Page:The seven great hymns of the mediaeval church - 1902.djvu/139

Rh

Never from the mingled tide

Flowing till from ' ide,

May my lips inebriate turn;

And when in the day of doom,

Lightning-like He rends the tomb,

Shield, oh hield me, left I burn!

So the hadow of the tree

Where thy Jesus bled for me

Still hall be my fortalice;

So when fleh and pirit fever

Shall I live, thy boon, for ever

In the joys of Paradie!