No shrill-toned clarion wakes the night
O'er Juda's slumbering plains;
No trumpet blast of armèd might
Sounds forth "Messiah reigns."
No curious crowd demands a sight;
No trophy flameth high;
But seraph hosts, on wings of light,
Haste through the ebon sky.
With glad acclaim His name they sing
Whose praise all heaven doth fill;
At whose command to earth they bring
The message of goodwill.
Oh wonderful! the angels' Lord
In human guise arrayed;
He, by archangels great adored,
Within a manger laid.
Where sages, guided by the star,
Kneel by that Holy One;
As, with rich offerings from afar,
They greet the Virgin's son.