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Δόξα ἐν ὑψίστοις Θεῷ.

tr., John Brownlie

8,8,8,8,8,8 Trochaic



Hark! upon the morning breezes,

In the darkness, ere the waking,

Music sweet the senses pleases,

Soft upon the stillness breaking;—

“Glory, Glory!” this the singing,

Welcome to Immanuel bringing.


Shepherds at their watch beholding

Angels clad in glistening whiteness,

Heard the wondrous news unfolding

’Mid that dazzling scene of brightness;—

“Glory, Glory!” peace, and kindness,

Light is breaking on our blindness.


Glorious morn! The sun uprising,

Shone upon a world rejoicing;

God is with us, truth surprising;

List to song the message voicing,—

“Glory, Glory!” ages told it,

Heavenly voices now unfold it.


God adored, our nature wearing!

Ah, such condescending meekness!

Stooping to a world despairing,

Full of pity for our weakness;—

“Glory, Glory!” praises swelling,

God hath made with man His dwelling.

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