O placid king of lush horizons green!
As sons, adopted to your royal house,
we lift our hands in that pacific mien
adorned with diadems: your holy Spouse.

All jewels which you, Lord, can furnish, here
are shining from her countenance; enticed
by Him whose flowing robes are our great weir
of shiv’ring men: our glimm’ring joy, O Christ.

Can this great emerald bear mortal praise?
No earthly meadow surely would suffice
to show that mystery; the burning blaze
New Adam kindled when He paid the price.

O that high, wondrous ruby on the crest!
What human fire, consuming all, displays
such blood-red hue? Ah, only your pierced chest,
enduring blackened darkness for three days.

And lapis lazuli is there! A lake
of living water, flowing without cost
from your great Wisdom, for our thirst to slake
and hearts to cleanse, and never to exhaust.

Beholding Topaz ’round your forehead’s peak,
we know the glowing furnace of your love;
the golden mouth of which all virtues speak,
which spoke, and formed the radiant stars above.

A lustrous pearl, atop the apex, high!
In it we hear the echoed angels’ song,
apostles’ prayers, chants of love, a sigh
of longing from the white-robed, baptized throng.

We see, reflected, in your deathless face,
our whitewashed sorrows: colourless, in pain,
which bleached your glory for our fallen race;
yet, risen evermore, you shine again.

In you, our gentle Christ – and in the Bride
you’ve called through water’s purifying flood –
the gems who gleam like that which pierced your side
are all of us, in you, full-washed with blood.

To you, our risen and ascended God
– before all things, the first of many sons –
with Father and the Holy Spirit, laud
and glory be from your bright little ones.

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