Hail! ev­er hail! aus­pi­cious morn,
The bright­est since our fall:
Mortals, ex­ult! the Sav­ior’s born,
O crown him Lord of all!

Down from ce­les­ti­al climes of day
He hastes to tread our ball,
Glory il­lum­ines all the way,
O crown Him Lord of all!

Hark! loud ho­san­nahs from the song
The melt­ing airs en­thrall,
A Sav­ior an­gels waft along,
And shout Him Lord of all.

Wrapped in their fold­ed vests of light
They seek the sor­did stall,
Gaze with emo­tions of de­light,
And own Him Lord of all.

Shepherds, to you a her­ald flies,
Obey the ear­ly call;
Immanuel in a man­ger lies,
Go crown Him Lord of all.

He comes, He comes, our world to bless,
To ran­som ev­ery soul
From shades of end­less wretch­ed­ness:
O crown Him Lord of all!

The scep­ter, robe and throne pre­pare,
Attend, ye great and small,
With ac­cla­ma­tions rend the air,
And crown Him Lord of all.