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Thou silver moon, ye host of stars,
The universal song

Through the serene and silent night
To listening worlds prolong.

Sing Him, ye distant worlds and suns,
From whence no travelling ray
Hath yet to us, through ages past,
Had time to make its way.

Assist, ye raging storms, and bear
On rapid wings His praise,

From north to south, from east to west,
Through heaven, and earth, and seas.

Exert your voice, ye furious fires
That rend the watery cloud,
And thunder to this nether world
Your Maker's words aloud.

Ye works of God, that dwell unknown
Beneath the rolling main;

Ye birds, that sing among the groves,
And sweep the azure plain;

Ye stately hills, that rear your heads,
And towering pierce the sky ;
Ye clouds, that with an awful pace
Majestic roll on high ;

Ye insects small, to which one leaf
Within its narrow sides

A vast extended world displays,
And spacious realms provides;

Ye race, still less than these, with which

The stagnant water teems,

To which one drop, however small,
A boundless ocean seems;

Whate'er ye are, where'er ye dwell,
Ye creatures great or small,
Adore the wisdom, praise the power,
That made and governs all.

And if ye want or sense or sounds,
To swell the grateful noise,
Prompt mankind with that sense, and they
Shall find for you a voice.

From all the boundless realms of space
Let loud Hosannas sound;

Loud send, ye wondrous works of God,

The grateful concert round.

Philip Skelton. 1784.


The strain upraise of joy and praise,


To the glory of their King

Shall the ransomed people sing,


And the choirs that dwell on high
Shall re-echo through the sky,


They through the fields of Paradise who roam,
The blessed ones, repeat through that bright home,


The planets glittering on their heavenly way,
The shining constellations, join and say,

Ye clouds that onward sweep,
Ye winds on pinions light,
Ye thunders, echoing loud and deep,
Ye lightnings, wildly bright,

In sweet consent unite your Alleluia!
Ye floods and ocean billows,
Ye storms and winter snow,
Ye days of cloudless beauty,
Hoar frost and summer glow;
Ye groves that wave in spring,
And glorious forests, sing



First let the birds, with painted plumage gay,
Exalt their great Creator's praise, and say


Then let the beasts of earth, with varying strain,
Join in creation's hymn, and cry again,

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This is the strain, the eternal strain, the Lord

Almighty loves;


This is the song, the heavenly song, that Christ

Himself approves ;


Wherefore we sing, both heart and voice awaking,



And children's voices echo, answer making,

Now from all men be outpoured

Alleluia to the Lord;

With Alleluia evermore

The Son and Spirit we adore.

Praise be done to the Three in One,

Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia !

John Mason Neale. 1851.



"And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of His Father before all worlds, God of God, Light of Light, Very God of Very God, Begotten, not made, being of one Substance with the Father, by Whom all things were made:

"Who for us men, and for our salvation, came down from Heaven, and was Incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary, and was made man.”


"Fam desinant suspiria.”

Away with sorrow's sigh,

Our prayers are heard on high;

And through Heaven's crystal door

On this our earthly floor

Comes meek-eyed Peace to walk with poor mortality.

In dead of night profound,

There breaks a seraph sound
Of never-ending morn ;

The Lord of glory born

Within a holy grot on this our sullen ground.

Now with that shepherd crowd

If it might be allowed,

We fain would enter there

With awful hastening fear,

And kiss that cradle chaste in reverend worship bowed.

O sight of strange surprise
That fills our gazing eyes:
A manger coldly strew'd,

And swaddling bands so rude,

A leaning mother poor, and child that helpless lies.

Art Thou, O wondrous sight,

Of lights the very Light;
Who holdest in Thy hand
The sky and sea and land;

Who than the glorious heavens art more exceeding


'Tis so; faith darts before,

And, through the cloud drawn o'er,

She sees the God of all,

Where angels prostrate fall,

Adoring tremble still, and trembling still adore.

No thunders round Thee break ;
Yet doth Thy silence speak

From that, Thy Teacher's seat,
To us around Thy feet,

To shun what flesh desires, what flesh abhors to seek.

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