The Holy Children boldly stand

Against the tyrant’s fierce command:

The kindled furnace they defy,—

No doom can shake their constancy:

They in the midmost flame confessed,

“GOD of our Fathers! Thou art blest!”

The Shepherds keep their flocks by night;

The Heav’n glows out with wondrous light;

The glory of the LORD is there,

The Angel-bands their King declare:

The watchers of the night confessed,

“GOD of our Fathers! Thou art blest!”

The Angel ceased; and suddenly

Seraphic legions filled the sky:

“Glory to GOD,” they cry again:

“Peace upon earth, good will to men:

“CHRIST comes!”—And they that heard confessed,

“GOD of our Fathers! Thou art blest!”

What said the Shepherds?—“Let us turn

This new-born miracle to learn.”

To Bethlehem’s gate their footsteps drew:

The Mother with the Child they view:

They knelt and worshipped, and confessed,

“GOD of our Fathers! Thou art blest!”