1 All hail, thou night, than day more bright,
Through whose mysterious shade,
In wondrous birth, arose on earth,
From bosom of pure maid,
The Sun new-born, a Star of morn,
Filling all the world with light!

2 He who alone, from Heaven’s high throne,
Rules all, and doth restore
To God’s embrace man’s fallen race,
Lies on a cottage floor,
Like Him that we, save poverty,
Have naught to call our own.

3 While o’er their sheep close watch they keep,
Those shepherds first receive
The heav’nly call, that doth to all
Great joy and gladness give—
The call from Heav’n to watchmen giv’n
That wake and never sleep.