O hap­py earth, whose dark­est night
The an­gels flood with song and light!
O happy shep­herds, first to hear
The tid­ings meant for ev­ery ear!
O hap­py night, O hap­py morn,
A Sav­ior, Christ the Lord, is born!

O hap­py heav’n, among whose spheres
The Christ Child’s blaz­ing star ap­pears!
O hap­py Magi, from afar
Led by the Christ Child’s blaz­ing star!
O Beth­le­hem! O spot most fair,
For Ma­ry and the Child are there!

The maid­en mother, vir­gin blest,
She clasps the Christ Child to her breast;
The won­der­ing shep­herds may adore,
The east­ern kings their trea­sures pour,
But in her heart the Babe di­vine
Has fa­shioned for Him­self a shrine.

O hap­py souls that throng on throng
Make fair the ag­es all along,
In glad suc­ces­sion hail the star,
And catch and spread the tid­ings far,
And ca­rol still each Christ­mas morn,
A Sav­ior, Christ the Lord, is born!

Awake, awake, O slug­gard heart!
O foes, be friends, for­get your smart!
O cold hearth, glow; laugh, lone­ly place!
O’erflow, O earth, with ev­ery grace;
Sing, sing again this bless­èd morn,
The Sav­ior of the world is born!