'Twas in the moon of winter time, when all the birds had fled, that mighty Gitchi-Manitou sent angel choirs instead; before their light the stars grew dim, and wondering hunters heard the hymn: Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.
Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found, a ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round; but as the hunter braves drew nigh, the angel song rang loud and high: Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.
O children of the forest free, O sons of Manitou, the holy child of earth and heaven is born today for you. Come, kneel before the radiant boy, who brings you beauty, peace and joy: Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.
Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found, a ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round; but as the hunter braves drew nigh, the angel song rang loud and high: Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.
O children of the forest free, O sons of Manitou, the holy child of earth and heaven is born today for you. Come, kneel before the radiant boy, who brings you beauty, peace and joy: Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.
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