The scene around me dis­ap­pears,
And borne to an­cient re­gions,
While time re­calls the flight of years,
I see an­gel­ic le­gions
Descending in an orb of light,
Amidst the dark and si­lent night,
I hear ce­les­tial voic­es.

Tidings, glad tid­ings, from above,
To ev­ery age and na­tion;
Tidings, glad tid­ings, God is love;
To man He sends sal­va­tion;
His Son be­loved, His on­ly Son,
The work of mer­cy hath be­gun;
Give to His name the glo­ry.

Through Da­vid’s ci­ty I am led;
Here all around are sleep­ing;
A light di­rects to yon poor shed,
Where lone­ly watch is keep­ing;
I enter—ah! what glo­ries shine!
Is this Im­ma­nu­el’s earth­ly shrine?
Messiah’s in­fant tem­ple?

It is, it is; and I adore
This Stran­ger meek and low­ly,
As saints and se­raphs bow be­fore
The throne of God thrice ho­ly;
Faith through the veil of flesh can see
The face of Thy di­vi­ni­ty,
My Lord, my God, my Sav­ior!