Come O Come With Sacred Lays
Come, O come, our voices raise,
sounding God Almighty’s praise;
hither bring in one consent heart, and voice, and instrument.
Sound the trumpet, touch the lute,
let no tongue nor string be mute, nor a voiceless creature found, that hath neither note nor sound.
Come ye all before his face,
in this chorus take your place;
and amid the mortal throng, be you masters of the song.
Let, in praise of God, the sound
run a never-ending round, that our songs of praise may be everlasting, as is he.
So this huge wide orb we see
shall one choir, one temple be;
where in such a praiseful tone we will sing what he hath done.
Thus our song shall overclimb
all the bounds of space and time;
come, then, come, our voices raise, sounding God Almighty’s praise.