Pange lingua gloriosi proelium certaminis

Sing, my tongue, the Saviour’s glory
Tell his triumph far and wide;
Tell aloud the famous story
Of his Body crucified;
How upon the Cross a Victim,
Vanquishing in death, He died.

Eating of the Tree forbidden,
Man had sunk in Satan’s snare,
When our pitying Creator
Did this second Tree prepare;
Destin’d, many ages later,
That first evil to repair.

Such the order God appointed
When for sin He would atone;
To the Serpent thus opposing
Schemes yet deeper than his own;
Thence the remedy procuring.
Whence the fatal wound had come.

So when now at length the fulness
Of the sacred time drew nigh.
Then the Son, the world’s Creator,
Left his Father’s throne on high;
From a Virgin’s womb appearing,
Cloth’d in our mortality.

All within a lowly manger,
Lo, a tender babe He lies!
See his gentle Virgin mother
Lull to sleep his infant cries!
While the limbs of God Incarnate
Round with swathing bands she ties.

Blessing, honour everlasting.
To the immortal Deity;
To the Father, Son, and Spirit,
Equal praises ever be;
Glory through the earth and Heaven
To Trinity in Unity.