| Sacra jam splendent decorate lychnisTempla, jam sertis redimitur ara
 Et pio fumant redolentque aceræ
 Thuris honore.
Num juvet Summo Geniti ParenteRegios ortus celebrare cantu?
 Num domus David, decora et vetustæ
 Nomina gentis?
Gratius nobis memorare parvumNazaræ tectum, tenuemque cultum,
 Gratius Jesu tacitam referre
 Carmine vitam.
Nili ab extremis peregrinus orisAngeli ductu, propere remigrat
 Multa perpessus Puer et paterno
 Limine sospes,
Arte, qua Joseph, humili excolendusAbdito Jesus juvenescit ævo,
 Seque fabrilis socium laboris
 Adjicit ultro.
Irriget sudor mea membra, dixit,Antequam sparso madeant cruore:
 Hæc quoque humano generi expiando
 Pœna luatur.
Assidet Nato pia Mater almo,Assidet Sponso bona nupta; felix
 Si potest curas relevare fessis
 Munere amico.
O neque experts, operæ et laboris,Nec mali ignri, miseros juvate,
 Quos reluctantes per acuta rerum
 Urget egestas.
Demite his fastus, quibus ampla splendetFaustitas, mentem date rebus æquam:
 Quotquot implorant columen, benigno
 Cernite vultu.
Sit tibi, Jesu, decus atque virtus,Sancta qui vitæ documenta præbes,
 Quique cum summon Genitore et almo
 Flamine regnas.
 | A thousand lights their glory shedOn shrines and altars garlanded;
 While swinging censers dusk the air
 With perfumed prayer.
And shall we sing the ancestryOf Jesus, Son of God most High?
 Or the heroic names retrace
 Of David's race?
Sweeter is lowly Nazareth,Where Jesus drew His childish breath—
 Sweeter the singing that endears
 His hidden years.
An Angel leads the pilgrim bandFrom Egypt to their native land,
 Where Jesus clings to Joseph’s arm,
 Secure from harm.
“And the Child grew in wisdom’s kenAnd years and grace with God and men;”
 And in His father's humble art
 Took share and part.
“With toil,” saith He, “my limbs are wet,Prefiguring the Bloody Sweat:”
 Ah! how He bears our chastisement
 With sweet content!
At Joseph’s bench, at Jesus’ side,The Mother sits, the Virgin-Bride;
 Happy, if she may cheer their hearts
 With loving arts.
O Blessed Three! who felt the stingOf want and toil and suffering,
 Pity the needy and obscure
 Lot of the poor.
Banish the “pride of life” from allWhom ampler wealth and joys befall:
 Be every heart with love repaid
 That seeks your aid.
Glory to Thee, O Jesu dear,Model of holy living here!
 Who reign’st, with Sire and Holy Ghost,
 O’er heaven’s host.
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