R. O chosen sweet,

inflamed by Flame

you gleamed, a root,

and in the Father’s radiance

you beamed the mysteries,

and went into

the bed of chastity

within the golden City,

constructed by the King

when he received the scepter of the lands:

R. To pilgrims lend your aid.

V. For you have swelled the rain

together with your predecessors,

who cast it

with the spicers’ viridity.

R. To pilgrims lend your aid.