How many poems doth serve to sing of life lived endlessly?
How many hymns of praise befit the theme eternity?
Thy kingdom founded on pure love doth space and time subdue;
Thus do our hearts both sing and praise love’s king forever more.
Numbers therefore do not apply to this thy loving realm;
An ending that always begins beginning without end.
The cross of life, the cross of love, the cross is God’s pure way;
One cross, one life, one love, one faith, upon thy word we stay.
If without number be the hymns of praise and songs to thee,
They merge to be but one adoring poem of trinity.
Thy peace which passeth understanding all words doth defy;
May cease we ne’er our praise of thee that e’er in love abide.
If all the pens of praise and song that ever poets held,
In search one final beauteous virtue didst conspire to meld,
Their noble sum of glory must indeed unceasing say,
“Alleluia, King of Kings, to thee we ever pray.”