I

Waving in the autumn breeze,

Clap your hands, ye forest trees,

For the arms that now entwine

Needy souls, were stretched on thine.

II

And the cross that bore the weight

Of the Christ, Creator great,

By the power that still remains,

All the universe sustains.

III

Emblem, by the Church adored;

Might, that wields the kingly sword;

Glory, of the ransomed host;

Agony, of spirits lost.

IV

Cross of Christ! we lift our eyes

And behold the sacrifice;

For the arms that now entwine

Needy souls, were stretched on thine.