Go Ad-Free
If you regularly use Hymnary.org, you might benefit from eliminating ads. Consider buying a subscription.
1 From heaven above to earth I come
To bear good news to every home;
Glad tidings of great joy I bring,
Whereof I now will say and sing.
2 To you this night is born a child
Of Mary, chosen virgin mild;
This little child, of lowly birth,
Shall be the joy of all the earth.
3 This is the Christ, our God and Lord,
Who in all need shall aid afford;
He will Himself your Savior be,
From all your sins to make you free.
4 He brings those blessing, long ago
Prepared by God for all below,
That in His heavenly Kingdom blest
You may with us forever rest.
5 These are the tokens ye shall mark;
The swaddling-clothes and manger dark;
There shall ye find the young child laid,
By whom the heavens and earth were made.
6 Now let us all with gladsome cheer,
Follow the shepherds, and draw near,
To see the wondrous gift of God,
Who hath His own dear Son bestowed.
7 Give heed, my heart, lift up thine eyes!
What is it in yon manger lies?
Who is this child, so young and fair?
Dear little Jesus lieth there.
8 Welcome to earth, Thou noble Guest,
Through whom the sinful world is blest!
Thou com'st to share my misery,
What thanks shall I return to Thee?
9 Ah! Lord, who hast created all,
How hast Thou made Thee weak and small,
That Thou must choose Thy infant bed,
Where humble cattle lately fed.
10 And were the world ten times as wide,
With gold and jewels beautified,
It would be far too small to be
A narrow cradle, Lord, for Thee.
11 For velvets soft and silken stuff
Thou hast but hay and straw so rough,
Whereon Thou, King, so rich and great,
As 'twere Thy heaven, art throned in state.
12 And thus, dear Lord, it pleased Thee
To make this truth quite plain to me,
That this world's honor, wealth and might
Are naught and worthless in Thy sight.
13 Ah! dearest Jesus, holy Child,
Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled,
Within my heart, that it may be
A quiet chamber kept for Thee.
14 My heart for very joy doth leap,
My lips no more can silence keep;
I, too, must sing with joyful tongue
That sweetest ancient cradle-song:
15 Glory to God in highest heaven,
Who unto man His Son hath given!
While angels sing with pious mirth
A glad New Year to all the earth.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | From heaven above to earth I come |
Meter: | L. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1918 |
Topic: | Christmas |