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Mocedades
Sing, my tongue
Sing, my tongue, the mystery of the glorious body
And of the precious blood, which price of the world
The fruit of the noble womb, the King of nations shed.
Given to us, born for us, from the untouched Virgin
And having lived in the world, having scattered the seed of the Word
He closed His stay with a wondrous order.
On the night of the Last Supper, reclining with His brothers
Having observed the law fully, with the legal foods
The crowd of twelve received the bread from His own hands.
To the Father and the Son be praise and joy
Salvation, honor, virtue, and also blessing.
Sing, my tongue, the mystery of the glorious body.
