O if I had the voice of an an­gel to sing
The best joys that at­tend us on earth,
I would sing of the bless­ings and com­forts that spring
From our Sav­ior’s mi­ra­cu­lous birth.

What the law, and the psalms, and the pro­phets of old,
In full ma­ny a mar­ve­lous way,
To the fa­thers had pro­mised, or plain­ly fore­told,
Are the won­ders that meet us to­day.

Not a jot or a tit­tle of Scrip­ture shall fail;
And by Scrip­ture how clear­ly ’tis proved,
That the Sav­ior is Je­sus, whose ad­vent we hail;
He is God to be wors­hiped and loved.

Son of God, Son of man, Da­vid’s Son, Da­vid’s Lord,
Full of mer­cy, yet right­eous and just,
All the truths that shine forth in Thine own writ­ten word,
I’ll re­ceive with sub­miss­ion and trust.

As the an­gels from Heav’n were sent down to pro­claim
The good news of this glo­ri­ous morn,
And the shep­herds and sag­es all joy­ful­ly came
To the place where the Sav­ior was born;

Let me copy the an­gels in re­ver­ence and love,
With the shep­herds obe­di­ent be found;
And, sub­mit­ting my thoughts to the Wis­dom above,
Now in meek Chris­tian wis­dom abound.