_Another._ Who will reveal to us thy secret birth Dear child? Art thou some holy prophet's son? _Another._ And thus the lovely Samuel was seen To grow beneath the tabernacle's shadow; Become the Hebrews' hope and oracle. May'st thou like him console our race! _Another sings._ O blessed, a thousand times, The child that loves the Lord, Who early hearkens to His voice, Whom God, Himself, doth deign to teach! Far from the world he, nurtured, is adorned By all heaven's blessings from his birth; And the contagious company of the bad Doth alter not his innocence. _All the Choir._ O happy, happy is the child That God instructs and vindicates! _The same voice alone._ So, in a secret vale upon the banks Of a pellucid stream, Beneath the shadow of an oak, A tender lily bloometh, nature's love. Far from the world arising, 'tis adorned With all heaven's blessings from its birth; And the contagious company of the bad Doth alter not its innocence. _All the Choir._ O blest, a thousand times, the child That God doth render docile to His laws. _One voice alone._ My God, how can a growing virtue walk Amongst so many dangers with sure step % What obstacles are found to his designs Who seeketh Thee, and wisheth innocence What enemies make war on him! Where can Thy saints conceal themselves? The evil-doers overspread the earth. _Another._ O David's palace, and his cherished city, Famed mount, where even God a long time dwelt, Why hast thou from the heavens drawn down His wrath? Sion, dear Sion, what sayest thou, When thou, alas! beholdst upon the throne Of thine own kings, an impious stranger sat? _All the Choir._ Sion, dear Sion, what sayest thou, When thou, alas! beholdst upon the throne Of thine own kings, an impious stranger sat! _The same voice continues._ Instead of David's pleasing strains, In which he poured his holy raptures, And blessed his God, his Father and his Lord: Sion, dear Sion, what sayest thou, When thou dost hear them laud the strangers' god, And curse the name thy princes have adored? _One voice alone._ How long, O Lord, and yet again how long Shall we behold the wicked rise 'gainst Thee? They come into Thy temple braving Thee: The people who adore Thee, treat as frenzied. How long, O Lord, and yet again How long Shall we behold the wicked rise 'gainst Thee? _Another._ Wherefore, say they, this sombre piety? Why flee the use of many joys so sweet? Your God does naught for you. _Another._