Carol, ca­rol, Chris­tians,
Carol joy­ful­ly;
Carol for the com­ing of Christ’s na­ti­vi­ty;
And pray a glad­some Christ­mas,
For all good Chris­tian men.
Carol, ca­rol, Chris­tians,
For Christ­mas has come again.
Carol, ca­rol.

Go ye to the for­est,
Where the myr­tles grow,
Where the pine and laur­el
Bend be­neath the snow:
Gather them for Je­sus;
Wreathe them for His shrine;
Make His tem­ple glo­ri­ous
With the box and pine.
Carol, ca­rol.

Wreathe your Christ­mas garland,
Where to Christ we pray;
It shall smell like Car­mel
On our fes­tal day;
Libanus and Shar­on
Shall not green­er be,
Than our holy chan­cel
On Christ’s na­ti­vi­ty.
Carol, carol.

Carol, ca­rol, Chris­tians,
Like the Ma­gi now,
Ye must lade your cas­kets
With a grate­ful vow:
Ye must have sweet in­cense,
Myrrh, and fin­est gold,
At our Christ­mas al­tar,
Humbly to un­fold.
Carol, ca­rol.

Blow, blow up the trum­pet,
For our so­lemn feast,
Gird thine ar­mor, Chris­tian;
Wear thy ves­ture, priest!
Go ye to the al­tar;
Pray, with fer­vor, pray,
For Je­sus’ second com­ing,
And the lat­ter day.
Carol, ca­rol.

Give us grace, O Sav­ior,
To put off in might
Deeds and dreams of dark­ness,
For the robes of light!
And to live as low­ly
As Thy­self with men;
So to rise in glo­ry
When Thou com’st again.
Carol, carol.