Full of pity for our weakness;—
“Glory, Glory!” praises swelling,
God hath made with man His dwelling.
τεχθέντος τοῦ Χριστοῦ.
I
Hail to the morn that dawns on eastern hills,
More radiant far than any earthly morn;
’Tis heavenly light that all creation fills;—
The Christ is born.