Vestments of red,
Altar cloth too,
Martyrs who bled,
Did this for you.
Gold Tabernacles,
Veiled in red's hue,
Martyrs in shackles,
Hung for this view.
Red mums full bloomed,
In water and brass,
Martyrs consumed,
Burned for this Mass.
Red rays of sun,
Rose-streak the nave,
Their suf'ring done,
Now, red, we must crave!
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