Friday, October 14, 2022
381. Epiphany Hymn
Christ, Treasure dearer far than gold,
When we in bonds of sin were sold,
You did not scorn our mortal birth
But bought with blood all souls in earth.
Though due the incense of our praise,
You bore the skull hill's stinking haze
That, for our sake, before God's eyes,
A pleasing savor might arise.
Then, by Your scented shroud and tomb,
Our grave You gave a restful fume:
On death a better spice than myrrh,
The hope of life, You thus confer.
To You, all nations' Savior-King,
What is there in our gift to bring?
All treasures are for You to give,
In Whom we die, by Whom we live!