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 He comes, His shrine the stall The ox and ass His courtiers Who made and governs all The House of Bread His birth place The Prince of wine and corn Lift up your gates, ye Princes And let the Child be born Then bar the gates, that henceforth None thus may passage win Because the Prince of Israel Alone hath entered in The earth, the sky, the ocean His glorious way adorn Lift up your gates, ye Princes And let the Child be born