Now every Child that dwells on earth,
Stand up, stand up and sing:
The passing night has given birth
Unto the Children's King.
Sing sweet as the flute,
Sing clear as the horn,
Sing joy of the Children,
Come Christmas the morn:
Little Christ Jesus
Our brother is born.

Now every star that dwells in sky,
Look down with shining eyes:
The night has dropped in passing by
A star from Paradise.
Sing sweet as the flute,
Sing clear as the horn,
Sing joy of the Stars,
Come Christmas the morn:
Little Christ Jesus
Our brother is born.

Now every Beast that crops in field,
Breathe sweetly and adore:
The night has brought the richest yield
That ever the harvest bore.
Sing sweet as the flute,
Sing clear as the horn,
Sing joy of the Creatures,
Come Christmas the morn:
Our brother is born.

Now every Bird that flies in air,
Sing, raven, lark and dove:
The night has brooded on her lair
And fledged the Bird of love.
Sing sweet as the flute,
Sing clear as the horn,
Sing joy of the Birds,
Come Christmas the morn:
Little Christ Jesus
Our brother is born.

Now all the Angels of the Lord,
Rise up on Christmas Even:
The passing night will hear the Word
That is the voice of Heaven.
Sing sweet as the flute,
Sing clear as the horn,
Sing joy of the Angels,
Come Christmas the morn:
Little Christ Jesus
Our brother is born.

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