Wine-sweet, God’s own blood filled
A golden grail.
Passed hand to hand, no blood-drop spilled
From that gold grail.
Passed age to age, this mystic wine
Within the grail
Turns each of us a holier shrine
Than golden grail.
Then let us each drink God’s own blood
From God’s own grail
Though never find, by land nor flood,
The Holy Grail.