Creator of the stars of night,
Thy peo­ple’s ev­er­last­ing light,
Jesu, Re­deem­er, save us all,
And hear Thy ser­vants when they call.

Thou, griev­ing that the an­cient curse
Should doom to death a uni­verse,
Hast found the me­di­cine, full of grace,
To save and heal a ru­ined race.

Thou cam’st, the Bride­groom of the bride,
As drew the world to ev­en­ing-tide;
Proceeding from a vir­gin shrine,
The spot­less vic­tim all di­vine.

At whose dread name, ma­jes­tic now,
All knees must bend, all hearts must bow;
And things ce­les­ti­al Thee shall own,
And things ter­res­tri­al, Lord alone.

O Thou whose com­ing is with dread
To judge and doom the quick and dead,
Preserve us, while we dwell be­low,
From ev­ery in­sult of the foe.

To Him who comes the world to free,
To God the Son, all glo­ry be;
To God the Fa­ther, as is meet,
To God the bless­èd Pa­ra­clete.