When Christ, our Lord, was born of old,
An angel choir his coming told;
And from the manger where he lay,
All up along the starry way,
Were seraphs set, and watchwords given,
To pass the story up to Heaven.
And so in sooth, they stand as well,
Though not to mortals visible,
Where’er the Church’s anthems rise,
To waft our homage to the skies.