I

Now the King Immortal

Comes to claim His own,—

Shepherds at their watch by night,

Hail the glory of the light—

They, and they alone.

II

Heralds from the heaven-land,

Tell His Advent clear;—

Where the sound of hurrying feet?

Where the crowds come forth to greet?

Where the loyal cheer?

III

Angels, on the night winds

Have their carols thrown,—

Theirs, the music rapturous, sweet,

Theirs, the songs the Monarch greet,

Theirs, and theirs, alone.

IV

Ah, the silent night hours,

Ah, the slumberers, prone,—

Mortals wake, arise, adore,

Angels, shepherds, honours pour,

They, and they, alone.

V

Jesu, King Immortal,

Mount thy rightful throne;

Loyal hearts their plaudits pour,

Heavenly choirs in songs adore,

They, not they alone.