First Of Martyrs, Thou Whose Name

First of martyrs, thou whose name

Doth thy golden crown proclaim,

Not of flowers that fade away

Weave we this thy crown today.

Bright the stones which bruise thee gleam

Sprinkled with thy life blood's stream;

Stars around thy sainted head

Never could such radiance shed.

Every wound upon thy brow

Sparkles with unearthly glow;

Like an angel's is thy face

Beaming with celestial grace.

Oh, how blessèd first to be

Slain for Him Who bled for thee;

First like Him in dying hour

Witness to almighty power.

First to follow where He trod

Through the deep Red Sea of blood;

First, but in thy footsteps press

Saints and martyrs numberless.

Glory to the Father be,

Glory, Virgin Born, to Thee,

Glory to the Holy Ghost,

Praised by men and heavenly host.