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.

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?

Angels, on the night winds

Have their carols thrown;--

Theirs the music rapturous, sweet,

Theirs the songs the Monarch greet,

Theirs, and theirs alone.

Ah, the silent night hours,

Ah, the slumberers, prone!

Mortals wake, arise, adore!

Angels, shepherds, honours pour,

They, and they alone.

Jesu, King immortal,

Mount Thy rightful throne;

Loyal hearts their plaudits pour,

Heaven and earth with songs adore,

They, not they alone.