From out the cloud of fiery light, borne on the whirlwind from the north, four living creatures winged and bright before the prophet's eye came forth. The voice of God was in the four beneath that awful crystal mist, and every wondrous form they wore foreshadowed an evangelist. The lion-faced, he told abroad the strength of love, the strength of faith; he showed the almighty Son of God, the man divine who won by death. O Lion of the Royal Tribe, strong Son of God, and strong to save, all power and honor we ascribe to thee who only makest brave. For strength to love, for will to speak, for fiery crowns by martyrs won, for suffering patience, strong and meek, we praise thee, Lord, and thee alone.
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