High Word of God, who once didst come,
Leaving Thy Fa­ther and Thy home,
To suc­cor by Thy birth our kind,
When, towards Thy ad­vent, time de­clined,

Pour light up­on us from above,
And fire our hearts with Thy strong love,
That, as we hear Thy Gos­pel read,
All fond de­sires may flee in dread;

That when Thou com­est from the skies,
Great Judge, to op­en Thine as­size,
To give each hid­den sin its smart,
And crown as kings the pure in heart,

We be not set at Thy left hand,
Where sen­tence due would bid us stand,
But with the saints Thy face may see,
Forever whol­ly lov­ing Thee.

Praise to the Fa­ther and the Son,
Through all the ag­es as they run;
And to the ho­ly Pa­ra­clete
Be praise with Them and wor­ship meet.