Come, let us sing with joy­ful mirth
The mys­tery of Im­ma­nu­el’s birth,
Who, vir­gin born, is here;
The mid­dle wall no lon­ger stands,
No flam­ing sword in che­rub’s hands
Inspires the soul with fear.

See, clear the path­way op­en lies
That up­ward leads to pa­ra­dise,
Where stands the tree of life;
And free­ly may I en­ter in,
Whence I was driv­en by mor­tal sin,
And worst­ed in the strife.

For He, the Fa­ther’s on­ly Son,
A glo­ri­ous work hath now be­gun,
Descending from ab­ove
In ser­vant’s form, though yet the Son,
Unchanging while the ag­es run,
To win us by His love.

Come, now, let hearts un­it­ed be
To laud His prais­es joy­ful­ly,
The God-Man born to­day.
And let Thy mer­cy reach us now,
For pi­ti­ful and kind art Thou,
O vir­gin born, we pray.