He, my Muse, shall be thy story; with His praise my lyre shall ring.

When the king in priestly raiment sang the Christ that was to be,
Voice and lute and clashing cymbal joined in joyous harmony,
While the Spirit, heaven-descended, touched his lips to prophecy.

Sing we now the works sure proven, wrought of God in mystic wise;
Heaven is witness; earth confesses how she saw with wondering eyes
God Himself with mortals mingling, man to teach in human guise.

Of the Father's heart begotten, ere the world from chaos rose,
He is Alpha; from that Fountain all that is and hath been flows;
He is Omega, of all things yet to come the mystic Close.

By His word was all created; He commands and lo! 'tis done;
Earth and sky and boundless ocean, universe of three in one,
All that sees the moon's soft radiance, all that breathes beneath the sun.

He assumed this mortal body, frail and feeble, doomed to die,
That the race from dust created might not perish utterly,
Which the dreadful Law had sentenced in the depths of Hell to lie.

O how blest that wondrous birthday, when the Maid the curse retrieved,
Brought to birth mankind's salvation, by the Holy Ghost conceived;
And the sacred Babe, Redeemer of the world, her arms received.

Sing, ye heights of heaven, His praises; angels and archangels, sing!
Wheresoe'er ye be, ye faithful, let your joyous anthems ring,
Every tongue His name confessing, countless voices answering.

This is He whom seer and sibyl sang in ages long gone by;
This is He of old revealed in the page of prophecy;
Lo! He comes, the promised Saviour; let the world His praises cry!

In the urns the clear, cold water turns to juice of noblest vine,
And the servant, drawing from them, starts to see the generous wine,
While the host, its savour tasting, wonders at the draught divine.

To the leper worn and wasted, white with many a loathsome sore,
"Be thou cleansed," He said; "I bid it!" swift 'tis done, His words restore;
To the priest the gift he offers, clean and healthful as of yore.

On the eyes long sealed in darkness, buried in unbroken night,
Thou didst spread Thy lips' sweet nectar, mixed with clay: then came the sight,
As Thy gracious touch all-healing brought to those dark orbs the light.

Thou didst chide the raging tempest, when the waves with foaming crest
Leaped about the fragile vessel, buffeted and sore di