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
Life up your gates, ye Princes
And let the Child be born!

With Gloria in excelsis
Archangels tell their mirth
With Kyrie eleyson
Men answer upon the earth
And angels swell the triumph
And mortals raise the horn
Life up you 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 birth place
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 entered in
The earth, the sky, the ocean
His glorious way adorn
Lift up your gates, ye Princes
And let the Child be born