Hail to the morn that dawns on eastern hills,

More radiant far than any earthly morn;

'Tis heavenly light that all creation fills--

The Christ is born.

Mystery profound, through all the ages sealed,

Now, to a world all hopeless, and forlorn,

In Bethlehem's manger is at length revealed--

The Christ is born.

Lo, from their watch the herdsmen raise their eyes,

For, dazzling light the robe of night had torn,

And angels poured their raptures from the skies--

The Christ is born.

Bring ye your gifts of gold and incense rare,

Wise men who come, all travel-stained and worn;

Find ye the Child, and pay your homage there--

The Christ is born.

Hail to the morn, the world exulting sings;

Only to Him, in fealty we are sworn,

Lord of our lives, Immortal King of kings!--

The Christ is born.