Royal day that chas­est gloom!
Day by glad­ness speeded!
Thou be­held from Ma­ry’s womb
How the King pro­ceed­ed;
Whom, true Man, with praise our choir
Hails, and love, and heart’s de­sire,
Joy and ad­mi­ra­tion;
Who, true God, en­throned in light,
Passeth won­der, pass­eth sight,
Passeth co­gi­ta­tion.

On the vir­gin as He hung,
God, the world’s cre­at­or,
Like a rose from li­ly sprung—
Stood as­tound­ed na­ture:
That a maid­en’s arms en­fold
Him that make the world of old,
Him that ev­er liv­eth:
That a maid­en’s spot­less breast
To the King eter­nal rest,
Warmth and nur­ture, giv­eth!

As the sun­beam through the glass
Passeth, but not stain­eth,
Thus the vir­gin, as she was,
Virgin still re­main­eth:
Blessèd mo­ther, in whose womb
Lay the light that ex­iles gloom,
God, the Lord of ag­es;
Blessèd maid! from whom the Lord,
Her own in­fant, God ad­ored,
Hunger’s pains as­suag­es.