Sweep the dust from all your corners,
Stoke the fire, let it burn warm and bright
Light the windows with candles aburning
The King is coming, we must greet him aright
The doors are open, the windows unbarred, to greet the coming Savior
O come, O Lord, the impoverished Babe, the angel's King, in straw was laid
Four times seven, we keep our vigil.
Four times seven, the old songs we sing
While the winds of winter blow o'er us
With gladsome tongues, the good tidings ring
The doors are open, the windows unmarred, to greet the coming Savior
O come, O Lord, the impoverished Babe, the angel's King, in straw was laid
O come, O Lord, the impoverished Babe, the angel's King, in straw was laid
Our hearts are restless till they rest in you
Return, O Lord, return come soon