Sons of men, be­hold from far,
Hail the long-ex­pect­ed star;
Jacob’s star that gilds the night,
Guides be­wil­dered n­ature right.

Fear not hence that ill should flow,
Wars or pes­ti­lence be­low,
Wars it bids and tu­mults cease,
Ushering in the Prince of Peace.

Mild it shines on all be­neath,
Piercing through the shades of death;
Scattering er­ror’s wide-spread night,
Kindling dark­ness in­to light.

Nations all, re­mote and near,
Haste to see your God ap­pear:
Haste, for Him your hearts pre­pare,
Meet Him ma­ni­fest­ed there.

There be­hold the Day-spring rise,
Pouring light up­on your eyes:
See it chase the shades away,
Shining to the per­fect day.

Sing, ye morn­ing stars again,
God des­cends on earth to reign,
Deigns for man His life to em­ploy;
Shout, ye sons of God, for joy.