Hail to the Lord who comes,

Comes to his temple gate;

Not with his angel host,

Not in his kingly state;

No shouts proclaim him nigh,

No crowds his coming wait;

But, borne upon the throne

Of Mary's gentle breast,

Watched by her duteous love,

In her fond arms at rest:

Thus to his Father's house

He comes, the heavenly Guest.

Hail to the great First-born

Whose ransom price they pay!

The Son, before all worlds;

The Child of man, today;

That he might ransom us

Who still in bondage lay.

O Light of all the earth,

Thy children wait for thee!

Come to thy temples here,

That we, from sin set free,

Before thy Father's face

May all presented be!

Amen.