Sweet flowerets of the martyr band

Verse 1

Sweet flow'rets of the martyr band, Plucked by the tyrant's ruthless hand Upon the threshold of the morn, Like rosebuds by a tempest torn;

Verse 2

First victims for th'incarnate Lord, A tender flock to feel the sword; Beside the altar's ruddy ray, With palm and crown, you seemed to play.

Verse 3

Ah, what availed King Herod's wrath? He could not stop the Savior's path. Alone, while others murdered lay, In safety Christ is borne away.

Verse 4

O Lord, the virgin-born, we sing Eternal praise to you, our King, Whom with the Father we adore And Holy Spirit evermore.