Behold, from realms of light
God’s Son des­cends to earth;
His form di­vine with flesh He veils
And hum­ble is His birth.

The ser­vant’s form He wears,
And takes the ser­vant’s place;
Upon a shame­ful cross ex­pires
To save our guil­ty race.

But in a dif­fer­ent form
He will one day be known;
In His great Fa­ther’s glo­ry dressed,
And shin­ing in His own.

Amidst a glit­ter­ing train
He shall to earth des­cend:
And His ten thou­sand hap­py saints
Admiring shall at­tend.

Whilst they be­hold their king
With heav­en­ly glo­ries crowned,
In sweet­est strains their tune­ful tongues
Shall His high hon­ors sound.

His foes shall trem­bling stand
Before His aw­ful throne;
Whilst to the world this right­eous Judge
Shall make His jus­tice known.