Spouse of Christ, in arms con­tend­ing
O’er each clime be­neath the sun,
Blend with pray­ers for help as­cend­ing
Notes of praise for tri­umphs won.

As the Church to­day re­joic­es
All her saints to join on high,
So from earth let all our voic­es
Rise in so­lemn har­mo­ny.

First amid the laur­eled le­gions
Prays the mo­ther to her Son,
Close to Christ in those fair re­gions
Where high praise to Him is done.

Angels next, in due gra­da­tion
Of the Spir­it’s min­is­try,
Hymn the Fa­ther of cre­ation,
Maker of the stars on high.

John, the her­ald voice so­no­rous,
Head of the pro­phet­ic throng,
Patriarchs, and seers in chor­us,
Join to swell the an­gels’ song.

Near to Christ th’Apos­tles seat­ed,
Trampling on the pow­ers of hell,
By the pro­mise now comp­let­ed
Judge the tribes of Is­ra­el.

They who nob­ly died be­liev­ing,
Martyrs pur­pled in their gore,
Crowns of life by death re­ceiv­ing,
Rest in joy for­ev­er­more.

Priests and Le­vites, Gos­pel preach­ers,
And con­fess­ors num­ber­less,
Prelates meek and ho­ly teach­ers,
Bear the palm of right­eous­ness.

Virgin souls, by high pro­fes­sion
To the Lamb de­vot­ed here,
Strewing flow­ers in gay pro­cess­ion
At the mar­riage feast ap­pear.

All are blest to­ge­ther, prais­ing
God’s eter­nal ma­jes­ty,
Thrice re­peat­ed an­thems rais­ing
To the all ho­ly Tri­ni­ty.

In your heav’n­ly ha­bi­ta­tions,
In your bless­èd home on high,
Hear, ye saints, our as­pi­ra­tions,
As to God we lift our cry.

Ever prais­ing, ev­er pray­ing,
Help ye thus your breth­ren here,
That the will of God obey­ing
We in peace may per­sev­ere.

So may we, with hearts de­vot­ed,
Serve our God in ho­li­ness;
So may we, by God pro­mot­ed,
Share that heav­en which ye pos­sess.