  Without the earth was robed in white, Stars glittered in the wintry sky, The altar lights shone fair and bright, Sweet heav’nly music rose on high, Breathing in the language of the soul, All that the soul so longs to hear, While from the sanctu’ry lamp there stole Soft rays that flickered far and near. And lo! the scene, the Cloister choir, The nuns in silent pray’r with God, The crib of Bethlehem, all inspire, Uplift our hearts from earth’s cold clod; All hallowed by God’s holy priest, Raising the host of sacrifice, While rays from the star of the east Seem to guide us away from vice. Non omnis moriar, they say, Not dead the flow’rs beneath the snow, They’ll come forth from the earth so gray, Live and bloom in the sun’s warm glow; Above the snow beyond the stars They who have gone in soft tones sing, Non omnis moriar, afar, We dwell in peace with Christ our King. |
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