In Her Lord His Church Rejoices

In her Lord His Church re­joic­es

Whom the host of heav­en­ly voic­es

Welcome to His earth­ly throne:

Peace from Heav’n their song re­cit­eth

Earth to Heav’n it re­unit­eth

Church with an­gels now are one.

To the flesh the Word is chain­èd

As it had been fore-or­dain­èd:

Unapproached by mor­tal man

Bears a vir­gin God’s own tem­ple

Nor ex­em­plar nor ex­am­ple

Having since the worlds be­gan.

’Tis a mar­vel past dis­cern­ing

That the bush with fire is burn­ing

Yet the bush it not con­sumes;

Dews the skies give

mists the mount­ains

Melt the clouds

the hills are fount­ains

And the Root of Jes­se blooms.

From the Root the Flow­er up­grow­eth

As the ora­cle fore­show­eth

Filling the rapt seer with joy:

Jesse’s Root was Da­vid’s pat­tern

So the Rod the Vir­gin ma­tern

And its flow­er her heav­en­ly Boy.

Where is glad­ness more ab­ound­ing?

Where the plum­met deep for sound­ing

Such abys­mal mys­te­ry?

Here is theme for end­less won­der;

Saints and an­gels

prais­ing

pon­der—

God an in­fant deigns to be!

Every charm the Flow­er at­tend­eth:

It to in­ner sense com­mend­eth

Seven-fold grace’s rich per­fume:

Let us in this Flow­er de­light us

To the feast which doth in­vite us

With its fair and frag­rant bloom.

Jesu

Branch that shall not wi­ther

May the day which brought Thee hi­ther

Bring Thy peo­ple joy and peace:

Flower and fruit of vir­gin cul­ture

Vital in Thy brief se­pul­ture

Never shall Thy prais­es cease.