Hic nempe Iesus verior,
  qui longa post dispendia
  victor suis tribulibus 175
  promissa solvit iugera.

    Qui ter quaternas denique
  refluentis amnis alveo
  fundavit et fixit petras,
  apostolorum stemmata. 180

    Iure ergo se Iudae ducem
  vidisse testantur Magi,
  cum facta priscorum ducum
  Christi figuram finxerint.

    Hic rex priorum iudicum, 185
  rexere qui Iacob genus,
  dominaeque rex ecclesiae,
  templi et novelli et pristini.

    Hunc posteri Efrem colunt,
  hunc sancta Manasse domus 190
  omnesque suspiciunt tribus
  bis sena fratrum semina.

    Quin et propago degener
  ritum secuta inconditum,
  quaecumque dirum fervidis 195
  Baal caminis coxerat,

    fumosa avorum numina
  saxum, metallum, stipitem,
  rasum, dolatum, sectile,
  in Christi honorem deserit. 200

    Gaudete quidquid gentium est,
  Iudaea, Roma, et Graecia,
  Aegypte, Thrax, Persa, Scytha,
  rex unus omnes possidet.

  Laudate vestrum principem 205

omnes beati, ac perditi,
vivi, inbecilli ac mortui: 
iam nemo posthac mortuus.

XII.  Hymn for the Epiphany

Lift up your eyes, whoe’er ye be
That fare the new-born Christ to see: 
For yonder is the shining sign
Of grace perennial and divine.

What means this star, whose piercing rays
Outshine the sun’s resplendent blaze? 
’Tis token sure that God is come
In mortal flesh to make His home.

  No courtier of the realms of night
  Nor monthly moon’s bright acolyte,
  This star directs the course of day,
  Sole sovereign of the heavenly way.

  Although the Bears their track retrace,
  Nor wholly their clear beams efface,
  Yet ofttimes ’neath the dun cloud’s haze
  They hide themselves from mortal gaze.

  But yon Star’s glory hath no end,
  Nor to the depths can it descend: 
  It ne’er is whelmed by envious cloud
  That seeks its beauty to enshroud.

  Now let the baleful comet die,
  The brood of blazing Sirius fly: 
  God’s orb shall quench their sultry heats
  And drive them from their haughty seats.

  Lo! from the regions of the morn
  Wherein the radiant sun is born,
  The Persian sages see on high
  God’s ensign shining in the sky.

  Soon as its rising beams prevail
  The starry hosts in order pale: 
  E’en Lucifer durst not upraise
  The silvery splendours of his face.

  Who is this sovereign (they enquire)
  That lords it o’er the ethereal choir? 
  ’Fore whom the heavens bow down afraid,
  Of all the worlds of light obeyed?

  Sure ’tis the sign most reverend
  Of Being that doth know no end: 
  Of One in state sublime arrayed
  Ere sky and chaos yet were made.