From lofty domes that pierce the heavens wide,  
Their curves a testament to Christ’s pure light,  
A splendor born where mortal hands abide,  
To mirror grace in stone, both fair and bright.  

The poet’s quill, with ink of holy flame, Doth sing of Him whose love doth all inspire,  
While music lifts His everlasting name,  
A harmony to set the soul afire.  

In robes adorned with threads of sacred hue,  
The tailor crafts a garment for the King,  
Each stitch a prayer, each seam a truth anew,  
To clothe the world in beauty’s offering.  

So let true art, Christ-centered, sing His fame,  
For from His love flows excellence supreme.