Lord Je­sus Christ, all praise to Thee,
That Thou wast pleased a man to be;
Our low es­tate Thou didst not scorn;
And an­gels sang to see Thee born.

The hea­ven­ly Fa­ther’s on­ly Son,
He left His right­ful glo­ri­ous throne;
The Lord through whom the worlds were made
Is in the hum­ble man­ger laid.

The bright­ness of the light di­vine
Doth now into our dark­ness shine;
It breaks up­on sin’s gloo­my night
And makes us child­ren of the light.

The Fat­her’s Son, for ev­er blest,
Becomes in His own world a guest,
To lead us from this vale of strife
Into the ev­er­last­ing life.