Come and rest! Come and heal! Ev’ry traitor
         Ev’ry wretch and stinking fiend: lay down your arms
    Find comfort here, and respite, rest, rapport
         All are welcome here, not one refused, none barred

She wearied, wounded, sorrowed, battle-sore
         Bids her children yet another weary soul embrace
    Offer care and proffer aid, render service to her foes
         As—though her progeny—once were as they

Her march to war is ever triumph by defeat
         Her shields and banners ’blazoned not with martial sign
    Not lion proud nor weapons bright; instead a bleeding sheep
         The lamb which piercèd, bruised and bloodied, died

No stranger, prouder heraldry to march beneath
         But under it she conquers all, so waves she bold
    The lamb rampant! Dancing proud on trampled death
         On mort laid low by low-laid, somehow mortal God

Come and rest! she calls— Come and heal! Ev’ry traitor
         Ev’ry wretch and stinking fiend: lay down your arms
    Find comfort here, and respite, rest, rapport
         All are welcome here, not one refused, none barred
         Beneath the dancing banner: the piercèd, rampant lamb.