Triumphant lies the Shade of Man,
"Awake, Awake ye mortals with lives like sand! "
Today the Wine, Tomorrow the Bread,
Alas, Can he be Brought back?
Ichor Divine in Mortal Skin, a King born to a Virgin Girl,
At his command He could have gifts of pearl!
Yet to His will they humble Him down,
Spit on Him, and Place upon Him a thorn of a Crown!
With all of His Love and all of His Grace,
He Sacrificed Himself and killed Sin and it's deadly race!
Triumphant lies the Light of Man,
"Come back! Come back! Ye Holy One! "
Today the wine, Today the Bread,
We are Redeemed by the Divine, We are Brought back from the dead!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem