Behold the Lightener of the stars
On the crests of the clouds,
And the choralists of the sky
Lauding Him.
Coming down with acclaim
From the Father above,
Harp and lyre of song
Sounding to Him.
Christ, Thou refuge of my love,
Why should not I raise Thy fame!
Angels and saints melodious
Singing to Thee.
Thou Son of the Mary of graces,
Of exceeding white purity of beauty,
Joy were it to me to be in the fields
Of Thy riches.
O Christ my beloved,
O Christ of the Holy Blood,
By day and by night
I praise Thee.
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