Alto ex Olympi vertice

From highest Heav’n, the Father’s Son,
Descending like that mystic stone
Cut from a mountain without hands.
Came down below, and fill’d all lands;
Uniting, midway in the sky,
His House on earth, and House on high.

That House on high,—it ever rings
With praises of the King of kings;
For ever there, on harps divine,
They hymn th’ eternal One and Trine;
We, here below, the strain prolong.
And faintly echo Sion’s song.

O Lord, of lords invisible!
With thy pure light this temple fill:
Hither, oft as invok’d, descend;
Here to thy people’s prayer attend:
Here, through all hearts, for evermore,
Thy Spirit’s quick’ning graces pour.

Here may the Faithful, day by day.
In kneeling adoration pray;
And here receive from thy dear love
The blessings of that home above;
Till, loosen’d from this mortal chain,
Its everlasting joys they gain.

To God the Father, glory due
Be paid by all the heavenly Host;
And to his only Son most true;
With Thee, O mighty Holy Ghost;
To whom praise, pow’r, and blessing be.
Through ages of eternity.