Good news, this hap­py morn,
Glad tid­ings come from Heav’n!
To us a child is born,
To us a son is giv’n.

What prince of high re­nown
Doth Zi­on’s praise em­ploy?
Who brings the an­gels down
To sing their song of joy?

The Hum­ble and the Meek;
Of Him the an­gels sing;
To Him shall Zi­on seek,
For He is Zi­on’s king.

He comes, th’in­car­nate Word;
He comes, the Prince of Peace;
The ev­er­last­ing Lord,
Whose king­dom shall in­crease.

He quits His throne ab­ove,
Upon this earth to dwell;
Such low­li­ness and love
No hu­man tongue can tell.

What pro­phets had fore­told
And kings de­sired to see,
We with our eyes be­hold—
The Lord’s na­ti­vi­ty.

In Beth­l’hem’s mean ab­ode
His suf­fer­ings be­gan,
When Christ, the Son of God,
Became the Son of Man.

O Lord, Thine arm re­veal,
That ere our course is run,
We all may know and feel
What Thou for man hast done.