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God the Creator- |
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XXVII.
Come, O come ! in pious lays Sound we God Almighty's praise ; Hither bring, in one consent, Heart, and voice, and instrument. Music add of every kind, Sound the trump, the cornet wind, Strike the viol, touch the lute, Let not tongue nor string be mute ; Nor a creature dumb be found That hath either voice or sound.
Let those things which do not live In still music praises give ; Lowly pipe, ye worms that creep On the earth or in the deep : Loud aloft your voices strain, Beasts and monsters of the main; Birds, your warbling treble sing ; Clouds, your peals of thunder ring ; Sun and moon, exalted higher, And bright stars, augment the choir.
Come, ye sons of human race, In this chorus take your place, And amid the mortal throng Be you masters of the song : Angels and supernal powers, Be the noblest tenor yours : Let, in praise of God, the sound Run a never-ending round, That our song of praise may be Everlasting, as is He. |
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