Оригинален текст
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