1 Cold was the night in winter wild,
When in her arms the maiden mild,
Enfolds her first, the Heaven born Child;
And whilst the mother over Him hung,
This carol from the angels’ tongue,
In strange mysterious tones is sung:

Refrain:
Gloria in excelsis Deo;
Et in terra pax hominibus;
Bonae bonae voluntatis.

2 The stars sit still in deep amaze,
In solemn silence steadfast gaze,
While listening to th’angelic lays;
Then wafted high, in joyous time,
The songs in loud harmonious chime,
To Heaven’s bright empyrean climb. [Refrain]

3 And doth this stall, in shaded gloom,
Contain the fruit of Mary’s womb,
For whom the world could not make room?
O grace, all praise of men above,
O Son, beyond all depth of love,
How do these our all passions move! [Refrain]

4 On thro’ the brightest day of days,
We, with its choir, our voices raise,
Sing jubilee in thankful praise;
To God on high be glory meet,
To earthborn Son—to Paraclete—
In this goodwill, in music sweet. [Refrain]