For lo! the world's great Shepherd now is born,
  A blessed Babe, an Infant full of power:
After long night uprisen is the morn,
  Renowning Bethlem in the Saviour.
  Sprung is the perfect day,
  By prophets seen afar:
  Sprung is the mirthful May,
  Which winter cannot mar.
In David's city doth this Sun appear
Clouded in flesh, yet, shepherds, sit we here!

They leave the land of gems and gold,
  The shining portals of the East;
For Him, the woman's Seed foretold,
  They leave the revel and the feast.

To earth their sceptres they have cast,
  And crowns by kings ancestral worn;
They track the lonely Syrian waste;
  They kneel before the Babe new born.

O happy eyes that saw Him first;
  O happy lips that kissed His feet:
Earth slakes at last her ancient thirst;
  With Eden's joy her pulses beat.