1 Behold that Splendor, hear the Shout,
Heav'n opens, Angels issue out,
And throng the nether Sky:
What solemn Tidings to thy bring?
Rapt at the Approach of Israel's King,
Speak the Monarch nigh.
2 Why does the King approach our Land,
Comes he with Thunder in his Hand?
The Merit of our Crimes,
Shepherds be glad, he comes with Peace,
Not Wrath, but universal Grace,
To bless ev'n distant Climes.
3 See Heav'n's great Heir, a Woman's Son!
Behold a Manger is his Throne!
Nay see him born to die!
Yours is the Guilt, but his the Pain,
His are the sorrows, yours the Gain,
Then let his Praise be high.
4 Come mighty King, the Gates enhance,
A stable was thy Palace once,
Dwell in these Hearts of ours,
Teach us to praise the Father's Love,
Till blest, transported, fir'd above,
We sing with nobler Powers.