Of those old rulers He is King
  Who did to Jacob judgment bring,
  King of the Mother Church divine,
  God’s ancient and God’s present Shrine.

  Of Ephraim’s sons He is adored: 
  Manasseh’s sacred house as Lord
  Reveres Him:  to His might the seed
  Of brethren twelve their fealty plead.

  Nay, each degenerate race hath fled
  Its shameful rites and orgies dread: 
  Grim Baal in glowing furnace cast
  Sinks to the earth, forsook at last.

  Idols smoke-blackened, wooden-hewn,
  Of brass and stone, in dust are strewn: 
  The chiselled deities downtrod: 
  For all confess in Christ their God.

  Rejoice all peoples, Jewry, Rome,
  Fair Hellas, Thrace, Aegyptus’ home: 
  Persians and Scythian land forlorn,
  Rejoice:  the world’s great King is born!

  Behold your Chief!  His praise forth tell: 
  Ye sick, ye hale, all heaven and hell: 
  Ay, you whose vital spark hath sped: 
  For lo! in Him e’en Death is dead.

Epilogus

  Inmolat Deo Patri
    pius, fidelis, innocens, pudicus
  dona conscientiae,
    quibus beata mens abundat intus: 
  alter et pecuniam 5
    recidit, unde victitent egeni. 
  Nos citos iambicos
    sacramus et rotatiles trochaeos,
  sanctitatis indigi
    nec ad levamen pauperum potentes; 10
  adprobat tamen Deus
    pedestre carmen, et benignus audit. 
  Multa divitis domo
    sita est per omnes angulos supellex. 
  Fulget aureus scyphus, 15
    nec aere defit expolita pelvis: 
  est et olla fictilis,
    gravisque et ampla argentea est parabsis. 
  Sunt eburna quaepiam,
    nonnulla quercu sunt cavata et ulmo:  20
  omne vas fit utile,
    quod est ad usum congruens herilem,
  Instruunt enim domum
    ut empta magno, sic parata ligno. 
  Me paterno in atrio 25
    ut obsoletum vasculum caducis
  Christus aptat usibus,
    sinitque parte in anguli manere. 
  Munus ecce fictile
    inimus intra regiam salutis; 30
  attamen vel infimam
    Deo obsequelam praestitisse prodest. 
  Quidquid illud accidit,
    iuvabit ore personasse Christum.

EPILOGUE

  The pure and faithful saint, whose heart is whole,
    To God the Father makes his sacrifice
  From out the treasures of a stainless soul,
    Glad gifts of innocence, beyond all price: 
  Another with free hand bestows his gold,
    Whereby his needy neighbour may be fed. 
  No wealth of holiness my heart doth hold,
    No store have I to buy my brothers bread: 
  So here I humbly dedicate to Thee
    The rolling trochee and iambus swift;
  Thou wilt approve my simple minstrelsy,
    Thine ear will listen to Thy servant’s gift. 
  The rich man’s halls are nobly furnished;