Behold, the grace ap­pears,
The pro­mise is ful­filled;
Mary, the won­drous vir­gin, bears,
And Je­sus is the Child.

The Lord, the high­est God,
Calls Him His on­ly Son;
He bids Him rule the lands abroad,
And gives Him Da­vid’s throne.

O’er Ja­cob shall He reign
With a pe­cu­liar say;
The na­tions shall His grace ob­tain,
His king­dom ne’er de­cay.

To bring the glo­ri­ous news
A heav’n­ly form ap­pears;
He tells the shep­herds of their joys,
And ban­ish­es their fears.

Go, hum­ble swains, said he,
To Da­vid’s ci­ty fly;
The pro­mised In­fant, born to­day,
Doth in a man­ger lie.

With looks and hearts se­rene,
Go vis­it Christ your king;
And straight a flam­ing troop as seen:
The shep­herds heard them sing:

Glory to God on high!
And heav’n­ly peace on earth;
Goodwill to men, to an­gels joy,
At our Re­deem­er’s birth!

In wor­ship so di­vine,
Let saints em­ploy their tongues;
With the ce­les­ti­al hosts we join,
And loud re­peat their songs:

Glory to God on high!
And heav’n­ly peace on earth;
Goodwill to men, to an­gels joy,
At our Re­deem­er’s birth!