Sing, My Tongue

Hymn from Vespers [translated by Rev. Edward Caswall (1814–1878)]

Sing, my tongue, the savior’s glory, of his flesh the mystery sing; of the blood, all price exceeding, shed by our immortal king, destined, for the world’s redemption, from a noble womb to spring.

• Of a pure and spotless Virgin
  born for us on earth below,
  he, as man, with man conversing,
  stayed, the seeds of truth to sow;
  then he closed in solemn order
  wondrously his life of woe.
• On the night of that last supper,
  seated with his chosen band,
  he the paschal victim eating,
  first fulfills the law’s command;
  then as food to his apostles
  gives himself with his own hand.
• Word made flesh, the bread of nature
  by his word to flesh he turns;
  wine into his blood he changes;
  what though sense no change discerns?
  only be the heart in earnest,
  faith her lesson quickly learns.
• Down in adoration falling,
  lo! the sacred host we hail;
  lo! o’er ancient forms departing,
  newer rites of grace prevail;
  faith for all defects supplying,
  where the feeble senses fail.
• To the everlasting Father,
  and the Son who reigns on high,
  with the Holy Ghost proceeding
  forth from each eternally,
  be salvation, honor, blessing,
  might and endless majesty. Amen.