Raise, raise the voice! All instruments obey:
Let the sweet lute its softest notes display;
For this is sacred Music's holy day. 
The god himself says he'll be present here:
Dress'd in his brightest beams he will appear,
Not to the eye, but to the ravish'd ear.
"Crown the day with Harmony,"
Hark! I hear Apollo cry;
"And let every generous heart
In the chorus bear a part." 
Mark, mark, how readily each pliant string
Prepares itself, and as an off'ring
The tribute of some gentle sound does bring. 
Then all together in harmonious lays
To the sublimest pitch themselves they raise,
And loudly celebrate their Master's praise. 
Come raise up your voices, and let us dispute
For melodious notes with the viol and lute;
Apollo's delighted with what we have done,
And clapping his hands cries "Iô, go on".
With a smile he does all our endeavours approve,
And vows he ne'er heard such a consort above.