At the Lamb’s high feast we sing praise to our victorious King, Who hath washed us in the tide flowing from his pierced side. 

Praise we him whose love divine gives his sacred Blood for wine, Gives his body for the feast: Love, the Victim; Love, the Priest. 

Where the Paschal Blood is shed, Death’s dark Angel sheathes his sword; Israel’s host triumphant go through the wave that drowns the foe. 

Christ, the Lamb, whose Blood was shed, Paschal Victim, Paschal Bread; With sincerity and love, eat we manna from above. 

Mighty Victim from the sky, powers of hell beneath thee lie; Death is conquered in the fight, Thou has brought us life and light. 

Now thy banner Thou dost wave; vanquished Satan and the grave; Angels join his praise to tell, see o’erthrown the prince of hell. 

Paschal triumph, Paschal joy, only sin can these destroy; From the death of sin set free souls re-born, O Lord, in Thee. 

Hymns of glory, songs of praise, Father, unto Thee we raise; Risen Lord, all praise to Thee, ever with the Spirit be. 

— Ambrosian Hymn, 7th Century