Scripture Verse

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. Luke 2:14

Introduction

Words: Trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to Eng­lish by Fran­ces E. Cox, Sac­red Hymns from the Ger­man (Lon­don: Will­iam Pick­er­ing, 1841), pag­es 13–15. Ju­li­an, page 1228, dis­cuss­es the source of the Ger­man orig­in­al:

Vom Him­mel kommt der starke Held

This hymn ap­pears in the Neu­es Hild­burg­häus­ich­es G. B. [Ge­sang-Buch], 1807 (ed. 1808, No. 170), in 10 st. [stan­zas] of 4 l [lines].

The two op­en­ing lines, but not much more, are tak­en from a hymn by Dr. Jo­hann Christ­oph Stock­haus­en, found in the Neue Han­au Mün­zer­bergsche [sic] G. B., 1779, and in­clud­ed in the Würt­tem­berg G. B., 1791, in 6 st.

The rest is a pa­ra­phrase, ap­parent­ly by J. C. Wag­ner…of the same pas­sage of Ho­ly Scrip­ture as that used by Lu­ther in his “Vom Him­mel kam der En­gel Scharr,” but it has ve­ry lit­tle re­sem­blance to Lu­ther.

Music: De­us Tu­or­um Mi­li­tum Gre­no­ble An­ti­phon­er, 1753 (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Cox or Stock­haus­en (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

Lyrics

The migh­ty Sav­ior comes from Heav’n,
He comes to save a world for­giv’n:
Hark! an­gels sing, and heav­en­ly light
Shines round the shep­herds in the night.

As glides His wing­èd her­ald near,
The trem­bling shep­herds shrink with fear;
Fear not, he cries, while love and grace
Beam from his Heav­en-il­lum­in­ed face.

Glad tid­ings of great joy he tells,
That He in whom all full­ness dwells,
The Son of God, from Heav­en come down,
Is born this day in Da­vid’s town.

He speaks, and lo! a heav­en­ly throng
Gives praise to God in ho­ly song;
And, as they touch their gold­en lyres,
This glor­ious theme their hymn in­spires.

The shep­herds joined, with won­der­ing gaze
And fal­tering voice, the song of praise;
And straight to Beth­l’hem sped away,
To where their in­fant Sav­ior lay.

So now let us, with heart and voice,
In God, our hope and strength, re­joice;
For ev­er­more with praise ad­ore
The Son, who all our sor­rows bore.

His just com­mands let us ful­fill,
And, true to death, ob­ey Him still;
Then God, to do whose will He died,
Shall see it, and be sa­tis­fied.

And gra­cious­ly, when life is past,
Will call us home to Heav’n at last;
Meanwhile our voic­es here we raise,
To join His an­gels’ song of praise.