On the French pennons triumph perches now;
The foe is routed by Clotilda's God;
And Clovis wished to have upon his brow
The symbol of her faith; for 'neath the rod
Of the eternal King he bows his regal will,
And waits, with heart devout, Christ's purpose to fulfil.
On Rheims now dawns a cloudless Christmas morn;
And flags of silk and satin grace each tower;
This is the day Clotilda's Christ was born,
And to His cause a great triumphal hour,