1 Th' Eternal speaks: All heav'n attends:
Who that unhappy race defends,
While justice aims the blow?
See nature tremble at their fates:
Death with his iron sceptre waits:
Hell opes her adamantine gates,
And triumphs at their woe.

2 Which of the bright celestial throng,
With Love so warm, and heart so strong,
Dares languish on a cross?
Who can leave liberty for chains?
Abandon ecstacy, for pains?
What angel fortitude sustains
Th' inestimable Loss.

3 He said: And death like silence reign'd:
Deep was their awe: The radiant band,
The mighty task declin'd,
At once, heav'n's Prince the silence broke,
And ardent thus, the Sire bespoke,
"None, but thy Son can ward the stroke;,
Ten let the task be mine.

4 Mine, be the feeble infant state;
Mine, in return for love be hate;
A manger be my throne.
Pain, when thy glory calls, is bliss;
When man's in danger, torture's peace;
Shame praise; a paradise th' abyss:
Then yield thy darling Son."

5 Th' Almignty radiance smil'd assent,
Loud was the shout that ether rent,
All heav'n was in amaze.
Be born, in anguish to expire;"
Earth triumph: Angels strike the lyre,
To everlasting praise.