Shepherds at their watch beholding Angels clad in glistening whiteness, Heard the wondrous news unfolding 'Mid that dazzling scene of brightness;-- "Glory, Glory!" peace, and kindness, Light is breaking on our blindness.
Glorious morn! The sun uprising, Shone upon a world rejoicing; God is with us, truth surprising; List to song the message voicing,-- "Glory, Glory!" ages told it, Heavenly voices now unfold it.
God adored, our nature wearing! Ah, such condescending meekness! Stooping to a world despairing, Full of pity for our weakness;-- "Glory, Glory!" praises swelling, God hath made with man His dwelling.
Hail to the morn that dawns on eastern hills, More radiant far than any earthly morn; 'Tis heavenly light that all creation fills;-- The Christ is born.
Mystery profound, through all the ages sealed, Now, to a world all hopeless, and forlorn, In Bethlehem's manger is at length revealed;-- The Christ is born.
Lo, from their watch, the herdsmen raise their eyes, For, dazzling light the robe of night had torn, And angels poured their raptures from the skies,-- The Christ is born.
Bring ye your gifts of gold and incense rare Wise men who come, all travel-stained and worn, Find ye the Child, and pay your homage there;-- The Christ is born.
Hail to the morn, the world exulting sings; Only to Him, in fealty we are sworn, Lord of our lives, Immortal King of kings!-- The Christ is born.
Hail to the King, Who comes in weakness now, No wreath of gold encircleth His brow, Lowly His state,--in lowly worship bow; Hail to the King!
Born of His Maiden Mother, pure as snow, Son of our God, begotten long ago, Ere yet the stream of time began to flow; Hail to the King!
Nowhere was found a shelter for His head, Humble He lay, e'en where the oxen fed, No couch nor crib, a manger was His bed; Hail to the King!
Herdsmen were there who heard the angels sing; Wise men from far who myrrh and incense bring, No other hand bestowed an offering; Hail to the King!
Hail to the King! O Christ upon Thy throne, Look on the souls which Thou didst make Thine own, When by Thy Birth and Death Thou did'st atone; Hail to the King!
{ Euphrainesthe Dikaioi; ouranoi agalliasthe;}
{ skirtêsate ta orê, Christou gennêthentos.}