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
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