"OME, O come! with sacred lays,
Hither, bring in true consent,
Heart, and voice, and instrument.
Let the orpharion sweet
With the harp and viol meet :
To your voices tune the lute :
Let not tongue nor string be mute:
Nor a creature dumb be found,
That hath either voice or sound,
Let such things as 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 you Stars, augment the choir.
Come, ye sons of human race,
In this chorus take your place,
And amid this mortal throng,
Be ye masters of the song.
Angels and celestial powers,
Be the noblest tenor yours.
Let, in praise of God, the sound
Run a never-ending round,