Run, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears.
We bring the best of news; be not dismayed;
A Saviour there is born more old than years,
Amidst heaven’s rolling height this earth who stayed.
In a poor cottage inned, a virgin maid
A weakling did him bear, who all upbears;
There is he poorly swaddled, in manger laid,
To whom too narrow swaddlings are our spheres:
Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize his birth.
This is that night–no, day, grown great with bliss,
In which the power of Satan broken is:
In Heaven be glory, peace unto the earth!
Thus singing, through the air the angels swam,
And cope of stars re-echoed the same.