Young men and maid­ens raise,
On this tri­um­phant morn,
A grate­ful song of heart­felt praise
To Christ at Beth­le’m born;
Your voic­es loud and sweet,
Expressive of your heart,
May sing to Him in prais­es meet,
And sor­row all depart.

The Fa­ther, from His throne,
The world’s cre­at­or gave
His well be­lov­ed, His on­ly Son,
A ru­ined world to save.
By faith from coun­tries far,
The east­ern ma­gi came,
Led by a bright and dazz­ling star,
To wor­ship at His fane.

The in­fant Christ they found,
And love­ly was the sight,
Their peace and joy would now ab­ound,
And praise be their de­light;
With wor­ship Him they greet,
Nor could they gifts with­hold,
But hum­bly lay at Je­su’s feet
Myrrh, frank­in­cense, and gold.

We of­fer Thee, good Lord,
Our hum­ble sac­ri­fice;
A con­trite heart, dec­lares Thy word,
Thou nev­er will des­pise.
O Lord, ac­cept the gift
Of our un­hal­lowed heart,
Our souls at last to Heav­en lift,
To dwell where now Thou art.