1 From dayspring’s faintest eastern goal
Far as the utmost west,
Come, sing we Christ, the Savior born
Of virgin mother blest:
The Father of the age to come,
In servant’s form arrayed,
That Man He might for man atone,
And ransom whom He made.

2 Within that mother’s spotless frame
Celestial favor reigns,
A secret load, she weened not of,
The maiden pure sustains:
Her bosom chaste at once becomes
The temple for her God;
And she, who knew not man, is made
A heavenly Babe’s abode.

3 He comes, He comes, the virgin-born
To Gabriel’s promise true;
He, whom, as yet unborn, o’erjoyed
The unborn Baptist knew:
Nor reeks He of His bed of hay,
Nor He the manger heeds;
Enough the milky breast for Him,
Who all the ravens feeds.

4 A shepherd to the shepherds’ fold
The Lord of all is showed,
Celestial choristers rejoice,
And angels sing to God.
Now glory, Jesus, be to Thee,
Whom a pure virgin bore,
With Father, and with Holy Ghost,
Henceforth for evermore.