Thy hand hast planted a vineyard steady,

blessed its tower to its gate.

From their profane lays, hath you ennobled,

common men to tend.

In thine power hast thee anointed a bough of

roses at thy hedge…

The Law to protect, Grace to uphold.

 

A crown you placed upon the fisherman’s

salty brow, staff in his hand, an eternal bishopric.

Fiery words thou puttest in the Pharisee’s

mouth, sight to his eyes, holiest voice within him.

Beside the Emperor’s purple shown thy glorious

blood washed white.

Amidst choking weeds, your vineyard sprung,

sowed ubiquitous seed and thrived.

 

Thy Church, planted firmly O Lord,

foresworn its tower to its gate.

Sinful lays, common men returned

Traitorous plunder they belie.

Sweet oil forgone in the row of

thorns and dross outstretched…

 

The Law to guard, for grace athrist.

Doth the fisherman’s son weep

and the Pharisee’s pupil protest?

Or, O Lord, shall the world’s Emperor

overcome and plunder thy vines?

 

Do us the sacrifice show,

Amidst thine holy garden which thou purchased.

Your vineyard from the boar

and evil shepherd deliver.

 

For by our hand has thy grace been recieved,

And by your hand, please restore.