From the pages of the prophets
  He stepped out into the world
  And walked the earth in lowly majesty
  For He had been creator
  A creature now was He
  Come to bare loves sacred mystery
  He the Truth was called a liar
  The only lover hated so
  He was many times a martyr before He died
  Forsaken by the Father
  Despised by all the world
  He alone was born to be the crucified
  
  Chorus
  Upon the cross of Glory
  His death was life to me
  A sacrifice of loves most sacred mystery
  And death rejoice to hold Him
  For soon He would be free
  For love must always have the victory
  
  Though no rhyme could ever tell it
  And no words could ever say
  And no cord is foul enough to sing the pain
  Still we feel the burden
  And suffer with your song
  You love us so and yet you bid us sing
  
  Repeat Chorus
  For love must always have the victory