Hail Progeny Divine!

Hail Pro­geny di­vine!

Hail vir­gin’s won­drous Son!

Who

for that hum­ble shrine

Didst quit th’Almigh­ty’s throne;

The in­fant Lord our voic­es sing

And be the King of grace ad­ored.

Ye princ­es

dis­ap­pear

And boast your crowns no more;

Lay down your scep­ters here

And in the dust adore:

Where Je­sus dwells

the man­ger bare

In lus­ter far your pomp ex­cels.

With Beth­lem’s shep­herds mild

The an­gels bow their head;

And round the sac­red Child

Their guard­ian wings they spread;

They knew

that where their sov­er­eign lies

In low dis­guise Heav’n’s court is there.

Thither

my soul

re­pair

And ear­ly hom­age pay

To Thy Re­deem­er fair

As on His na­tal day.

I kiss Thy feet and

Lord

would be

A child like Thee

whom thus I greet.