The Son of Man from Jor­dan rose,
And prayed to God above;
When lo, the op­en­ing heav’ns dis­close
A swift des­cend­ing dove.

The Spir­it, light­ing on His brow,
Anoints the Ho­ly One;
The Fa­ther’s voice de­clar­ing, Thou
Art My be­lov­èd Son.

So when, through His bap­tiz­ing blessed
The font new birth con­veys,
Man kneels a son of God con­fessed,
Heav’n op­ens as he prays.

Fair in­no­cen­cy, like the dove’s,
Invests him, purged from sin;
For God the brood­ing Spir­it moves,
Directs and rules with­in.

O Christ, whose mer­cy cleansed our stain
With streams of grace di­vine,
Let us not soil the robes again
Made white in blood of Thine.

Redeemer of a world un­done,
We praise Thee and adore,
Jesu, with God the Fa­ther One,
And Spir­it ev­er­more.