A shout of mighty triumph
Through nature’s realm is heard,
A shout which calls creation
To hail th’Incarnate Word.
Away with clouds and darkness!
All hail, thrice blessèd morn;
Sing out with joy, ye mortals,
For Jesus Christ is born!

Is this, ye holy shepherds,
The mighty newborn King?
This Child, so sweet and gentle,
Can He such rapture bring?
O yes! He comes, the Savior
Of sinful earth forlorn;
Then shout with joy, ye mortals,
For Jesus Christ is born!

The cruel, cruel foeman
This Child shall overthrow;
Full soon, the fierce destroyer,
His Lord’s stern might shall know:
Of all his boasted power
Soon to be roughly shorn;
Then shout with joy, ye mortals,
For Jesus Christ is born!

But say, sweet virgin mother,
The Child upon thy breast,
Will He receive young children,
And share with them His rest?
O yes! He will with glory
Both old and young adorn;
Then shout with joy, ye mortals,
For Jesus Christ is born!

Rejoice then, youths and maidens,
Old men and children, too;
Lift up your cheerful voices,
With bliss and rapture true!
Ring out, ye towers and steeples!
Blow, trumpet, pipe and horn!
Then shout with joy, ye mortals,
For Jesus Christ is born!