1 Lightly bound my bosom, ringing
Joyous lays, when in praise
Angels all are singing,
List! O list the swelling chorus:
"Christ is born!" this fair morn
Fills the welkin o'er us.
2 Forth to-day the Conq'uror goeth,
Who the foe, sin and woe,
Death and hell o'erthroweth.
God with man becomes united,
Flesh is made for our aid,
Healing all that's blighted.
3 Shall we still dread God's displeasure,
Who to save freely gave
Us His dearest Treasure?
Who from all the ills that grieve us
In His love from above
Sends Him to relieve us?
4 Should He, who Himself imparted,
Aught withhold from the fold,
Leave us broken-hearted?
Should the Son of God not love us,
Who to cheer suff'rers here
Left His throne above us?
5 If our blessed Lord and Maker
Hated men, would He then
Be of flesh partaker?
If He in our woe delighted,
Would He bear all the care
Of our race benighted?
6 He becomes the Lamb that taketh
Sin away, and for aye
Full atonement maketh.
For our life His own He tenders,
And our race, by His grace,
Meet for glory renders.
7 Lowly lies He in the manger,
And to all sends the call:
Ye are freed from anger--
Cease your wailing in your weakness,
All your stains, all your pains,
I have bourne in meekness.
8 Come, then, banish all your sadness,
One and all, great and small,
Come with songs of gladness;
Love Him who with love is glowing,
View the star, near and far
Light and joy bestowing.
9 Ye whose anguish knew no measure,
Grieve no more, see the door
To celestial pleasure:
Come, He will your journey gladden
To the rest of the blest,
Where no sin shall sadden.
10 Ye whom conscience sorely troubles,
All whose toil, pain to foil,
But its wrath redoubles,
Hither come with all your bruises,
Here is One who to none
Healing balm refuses.
11 Come all ye whom want oppresses,
Here behold gems and gold,
All He freely blesses.
Come and taste that He is gracious--
To our hearts He imparts
Jewels rare and precious.
12 Let me in my arms receive Thee,
On Thy breast let me rest,
Savior, ne'er to leave Thee!
Since Thou hast Thyself presented
Now to me, I shall be
13 Now that Thou my nature wearest
Guilt no more racks me sore--
Thou its burden bearest.
Now from every spot and wrinkle
I am free, since Thou me
With Thy blood dost sprinkle.
14 I am pure in Thee, believing,
From Thy store evermore
Richest robes receiving.
In my heart I will enfold Thee,
Treasure rare! Let me there
Raptured ever hold Thee!
15 Thee I will depart from never
While I've breath, nor shall death
From Thy love me sever!
And in heaven, by saints surrounded,
I shall be still with Thee,
Tasting bliss unbounded!
Source: Evangelical Lutheran hymnal: with music #27