Abroad the regal banners fly,
Now shines the cross’s mystery;
Upon it Life did death endure,
And yet by death did life procure.
Who, wounded with a direful spear,
Did, purposely to wash us clear
From stain of sin, pour out a flood
Of precious water mixed with blood.
That which the prophet-king of old
Hath in mysterious verse foretold,
Is now accomplished, whilst we see
God ruling nations from a tree.
O lovely and refulgent tree,
Adorned with purpled majesty;
Culled from a worthy stock, to bear
Those limbs which sanctifièd were.
Blest tree, whose happy branches bore
The wealth that did the world restore;
The beam that did that body weigh
Which raised up hell’s expected prey.
The following verse is said on bended knee.
O Cross, our one reliance, hail!
This holy Passiontide avail
To give fresh merit to the saint,
And pardon to the penitent.
Blest Trinity, salvation’s spring,
May every soul thy praises sing;
To those thou grantest conquest by
The holy cross, rewards apply.
Amen.
St. Venantius Fortunatus, Vexílla regis pródeun, prior to 569