Jesu, Sion’s King, We Greet Thee

Jesu

Si­on’s king

we greet Thee

On the Way of Sor­rows meet Thee

Meekly com­ing un­to death;

In ex­treme hu­mi­li­ation

Just and gird­ed with sal­va­tion

E’en as Ze­cha­ri­ah sa­ith.

King

how soon the cru­el scorn­ing

Purple robe for mock ad­orn­ing

Scepter poor of bend­ing reed;

Then Thine in­fi­nite af­flict­ion

Bloody sweat and cru­ci­fix­ion

Thirst

and last dread hour of need.

By Thy pre­cious blood

good Je­sus

From trans­gress­ion’s bur­den ease us

By Thy wounds

give health di­vine;

And our lives vouch­safe to fa­shion

By the vir­tue of Thy Pas­sion

Into like­ness un­to Thine.

Thus here­af­ter may we mer­it

That glad Ci­ty to in­her­it

Which the cross

dear Lord

makes free;

There

where no­thing may af­flict us

Chant un­end­ing Be­ne­dic­tus

Palm and crown cast down to Thee.