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.
57
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.
Source: Hymns of the Early Church: translated from Greek and Latin sources; together with translations from a later period; centos and suggestions from the Greek; and several original pieces #56