Filled with rapture, filled with fear.

"We are twelve -- 'twas we who chanted
First the Saviour's lowly birth,
We who brought the joyful tidings
Of His coming, to the earth;
We who sung unto the shepherds,
Watching on the mountain height,
That the Word was made Incarnate
For them on that blessed night.

"And since then we love to linger
On that festal night on earth;
And we leave our thrones of glory
Here to keep the Saviour's birth.
Happy mortals! happy mortals!
To-night the angels would be men;
And they leave their thrones in heaven,
For the Crib of Bethlehem."

And the angel led the pilgrim
To the tabernacle door;
Lo! an Infant there was sleeping,
And the angel said: "Adore!
He is sleeping, yet he watches,
See that beam of love divine;
Pilgrim! pay your worship holy
To your Infant God and mine."

And the spirit slowly, slowly,