Now sing we, now rejoice,
Now raise to Heav’n our voice;
From manger poor see streaming,
Bright rays of joy now beaming;
No gleam of sun, no star light
Is like this love, so pure and bright;
Thou my Sav­ior art!
Thou my Sav­ior art!

Now given from on high to me
I cannot rise to Thee:
O cheer my wearied spirit:
O pure and holy Child,
Through all Thy grace and merit,
Blest Je­sus! Gentle Lord most mild,
Draw me after Thee!
Draw me after Thee!

Now through His Son doth shine
The Fa­ther’s grace divine:
Death over us hath reignéd
Through sin and boastful vanity;
The Son for us obtainéd
Eternal joy and peace on high.
May we praise Him there!
May we praise Him there!

O where shall joy be found?
Where but on heav’nly ground?
Where now the angels singing
With all His saints unite,
Their praises sweetly singing
In heav’nly joy, eter­nal light:
May we praise Him there!
May we praise Him there!