Who Is She Ascends So High,
Next The Heavenly King,
Round About Whom Angels Fly,
And Her Praises Sing?
Who Is She Adorned With Light;
Makes The Sun Her Robe?
At Whose Feet The Queen Of Night
Lays Her Changing Globe?
This Is She In Whose Pure Womb
Heaven’s Prince Remained;
Wherefore In No Earthly Tomb
Could She Be Contained.
Heaven She Was, Which Held That Fire,
Whence The World Took Light,
And To Heaven Doth Now As Pire:
Flames With Flames Unite.
She That Did So Clearly Shine,
Our Day Once Begun,
See How Bright Her Beams Decline,
Sitting With The Sun.