A day
a day of glory!
A day that ends our woe!
A day that tells of triumph
Against our vanquished foe!
Yield
summer’s brightest sunrise
To this December morn:
Lift up your gates
ye princes
And let the child be born!
With Gloria in excelsis
Archangels tell their mirth:
With Kyrie elëyson
Men answer upon earth:
And angels swell the triumph
And mortals raise the horn
Lift up your gates
ye princes
And let the Child be born.
He comes
His throne the manger;
He comes
His shrine the stall;
The ox and ass His courtiers
Who made and governs all:
The House of Bread His birth-place
The Prince of wine and corn:
Lift up your gates
ye princes
And let the Child be born.
Then bar the gates
that henceforth
None thus may passage win
Because the Prince of Israel
Alone hath entered in:
The earth
the sky
the ocean
His glorious way adorn:
Lift up your gates
ye princes
And let the Child be born.