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First of Martyrs
First of martyrs, thou whose name
Doth thy golden crown proclaim,
Not of flowers that fade away
Weave we this thy
crown today.
Bright the stones which bruise thee gleam
Sprinkled with thy life blood’s stream;
Stars around thy sainted
head
Never could such radiance shed.
Every wound upon thy brow
Sparkles with unearthly glow;
Like an angel’s is thy
face
Beaming with celestial grace.
Oh, how blessèd first to be
Slain for Him Who bled for thee;
First like Him in
dying hour
Witness to almighty power.
First to follow where He trod
Through the deep Red Sea of blood;
First, but in thy
footsteps press
Saints and martyrs numberless.
Glory to the Father be,
Glory, Virgin Born, to Thee,
Glory to the Holy
Ghost,
Praised by men and heavenly host.
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