Christ and Him Crucified

Rough our way and dark the night,
Strong our foes but small our might,
Prone to droop our faithless mind,
Life before, but death behind:
Sing we as we journey on,
—“Christon Estaurōmenon!”

Friends are few nor can they heal
Sorrows which we deepest feel;
And when needed most forsake:
Unto Jesus we’ll betake,
Breathing oft, while toiling on,
—“Christon Estaurōmenon!”

When of every joy bereft,
Nought but broken idols left,
Lone we lie upon the earth,
Strangers long to thought of mirth;
Then we’ll sigh though weeping on,
—“Christon Estaurōmenon!”

Bleeds our heart the world to see,
Chained by guilt in misery;
We would heal our brother’s woes,
Break his fetters, bind his foes:
We will cry, while passing on,
—“Christon Estaurōmenon!”

When our Home shall shine in sight,
When our fears are lost in light,
When we hear the summons given,
“Bring my way-worn ones to heaven!”
We will shout, while wafted on,
—“Christon Estaurōmenon!”

In that perfect world above,—
Perfect light and perfect love,
At HIS feet our crowns we’ll cast,
And while heaven itself shall last,
Swell the anthem ever on,
—“Christon Estaurōmenon!”

Favorite Welsh Hymns, 1854