Lyrics
A day, a day of glory! A day that ends our woe!
A day that tells of triumph Against our vanquish'd foe!
Yield, summer's brightest sunrise, To this December morn:
Lift up your gates, ye Princes, And let the Child be born!
With Gloria in excelsis Archangels tell their mirth:
With Kyrie eleison Men answer upon earth:
And angels swell the triumph, And mortals raise the horn,
Lift up your gates, ye Princes, And let the Child be born!
He comes, His throne the manger; He comes, His shrine the stall;
The ox and ass His courtiers, Who made and governs all:
The "House of Bread" His birthplace, The Prince of wine and corn:
Lift up your gates, ye Princes, And let the Child be born!
Then bar the gates, that henceforth None thus may passage win,
Because the Prince of Israel Alone hath enter'd in:
The earth, the sky, the ocean His glorious way adorn:
Lift up your gates, ye Princes, And let the Child be born!
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