From where the sun rises, to the furthest west, let us all sing to Jesus our King, the Son of the Virgin Mary.
The blessed Creator of the universe assumed the Body of a servant: that he might thus by Flesh deliver flesh, and save from perdition the creatures of his hands.
The heavenly grace enters into the womb of the Virgin- Mother: the young Maiden carries within her a Secret, which she knows not.
This chastest living Dwelling becomes, in that instant, God's own Temple: the purest of Virgins conceives the Son of God
She gives him birth: Him, whom Gabriel had foretold, and whom the Baptist, exulting in his mother's womb, perceived when yet unborn.
He suffered himself to be laid on the straw: he disdains not the Crib: and He who feeds the hungry birds, is fed himself on a few drops of milk!
The heavenly citizens keep glad choir, singing their angel-hymns to God: and the Shepherd, the Creator of the world, is looked at by shepherds.
Glory be to thee, O Jesus, that wast born of the Virgin! and to the Father, and to the Spirit of Love, for everlasting ages.