At the Wedding March

God with honour hang your head,Groom, and grace you, bride, your bedWith lissome scions, sweet scions,Out of hallowed bodies bred.

Each be other's comfort kind:Déep, déeper than divined,Divine charity, dear charity,Fast you ever, fast bind.

Then let the March tread our ears:I to him turn with tearsWho to wedlock, his wonder wedlock,Déals tríumph and immortal years.