We sing, Im­ma­nu­el, Thy praise,
Thou Prince of Life and fount of grace,
Thou flow’r of Heav’n and star of morn,
Thou Lord of lords, Thou vir­gin born.
Hallelujah!

For Thee, since first the world was made,
So ma­ny hearts have watched and prayed;
The pa­tri­archs’ and pro­phets’ throng
For Thee have hoped and wait­ed long.
Hallelujah!

Now art Thou here, Thou ev­er blest!
In low­ly man­ger dost Thou rest.
Thou, mak­ing all things great, art small;
So poor art Thou, yet cloth­est all.
Hallelujah!

From Thee above all glad­ness flows,
Yet Thou must bear such bit­ter woes;
The Gen­tiles’ light and hope Thou art,
Yet find­est none to soothe Thine heart.
Hallelujah!

But I, Thy ser­vant, Lord, to­day
Confess my love and free­ly say,
I love Thee tru­ly, but I would
That I might love Thee as I should.
Hallelujah!

I have the will, the pow­er is weak;
Yet, Lord, my hum­ble of­fer­ing take
And gra­cious­ly the love re­ceive
Which my poor heart to Thee can give.
Hallelujah!

Had I no load of sin to bear,
Thy grace, O Lord, I could not share;
In vain hadst Thou been born for me
If from God’s wrath I had been free.
Hallelujah!

Thus will I sing Thy prais­es here
With joy­ful spir­it year by year;
And when we reck­on years no more,
May I in Heav’n Thy name ad­ore!
Hallelujah!