Now in holy celebration sing we of that Mother blest, in whose flesh for men's salvation God incarnate deigned to rest, when a kindred salutation named in faith the mystic Guest. Lo, the advent Word confessing, spake for joy the voice yet dumb, through his mother's lips addressing her, of motherhood the sum,-- bower of beauty, blest and blessing, crowned with fruit of life to come. "Whence," she cried, at that fair meeting, "comes to me this great reward? For when I first heard the greeting of the Mother of my Lord, in my womb, the joy repeating, leapt my babe in sweet accord!" Lo, at that glad commendation joy found voice, in Mary's breast while in holy exultation she her Maker's power confessed, at whose word each generation now henceforward names her blest. Triune Godhead, health supplying, Ruler of eternity, on the fount of grace relying, we uplift our hearts to thee, praying that in realms undying we at one with Life may be.
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