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Hymns From The Morningland by John Brownlie

hoi magoi ta dora prospherousin·

hoi poimenes to thauma keruttousin.

tr., John Brownlie



Hail to the King, Who comes in weakness now,

No wreath of gold encircleth His brow,

Lowly His state, -- in lowly worship bow;

Hail to the King!


Born of His Maiden Mother, pure as snow,

Son of our God, begotten long ago,

Ere yet the stream of time began to flow;

Hail to the King!


Nowhere was found a shelter for His head,

Humble He lay, e'en where the oxen fed,

No couch nor crib, a manger was His bed;

Hail to the King!


Herdsmen were there who heard the angels sing;

Wise men from far who myrrh and incense bring,

No other hand bestowed an offering;

Hail to the King!


Hail to the King! O Christ upon Thy throne,

Look on the souls which Thou didst make Thine own,

When by Thy Birth and Death Thou did'st atone;

Hail to the King!

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