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Sing, my tongue, the myst'ry holy
Of the Body of my Lord,
And His Precious Blood, the ransom
Which upon the earth was poured.
Fruit of Mary's womb all holy,
May He ever be adored.
On the night before His passion,
His Apostles by His side,
He fulfilled the law completely
With the food He purified;
Then He gave Himself unto them,
Bread His hands had sanctified.
The Incarnate Word now changes
Bread to flesh at His command,
And the wind becomes His life-blood.
Senses fail to understand;
But the heart that is in earnest
Can by faith its doubt withstand.
Praise to the Almighty Father;
Honor, glory to the Son;
Adoration to the Spirit,
Who with Them is ever one,
And procedes from both forever,
As eternal ages run.