We Celebrate The Praise Today
We celebrate the Praise to Day,
Of Godhead manifest in clay,
And of a Woman born!
The promis’d Son to us is giv’n,
The Glories of indulgent Heav’n,
Our Nature doth adorn.
Let it be told to distant Lands,
How softly wrapp’d in Swaddling-Bands,
And in a Manger laid,
Was he, whom we with Joy confess,
The glorious Lord, our RIGHTEOUSNESS!
Born of a favour’d Maid.
Long did the Saints with Ardour sigh
To see his Day, and thus did cry,
Desire of nations come:
More blest are we who see and prove
The Fulness of the Father’s Love,
Born from the Virgin’s Womb!
The Lord himself hath giv’n the Sign
Of richest Grace, and love divine,
Promise’d of old to Man;
How that a Virgin should conceive:
The wond’rous Tidings we believe,
And praise her first-born Son.
We join with Angel-Hosts to cry,
Glory to God, to God on high;
Peace on rebellious Earth:
To Man Good-will abounds from Heav’n;
The Proof of all is richly giv’n
In this mysterious Birth!
What Things are these which Angels say?
A Saviour born! yea, born to Day,
In David’s native Town:
A Saviour, who is Christ the Lord;
For so declares the heavenly Word;
Hear, wonder, and bow dwon!
The Wonderful, the holy Child,
The everlasting Father stil’d,
The mighty God art thou;
The Counsellor, the Prince of Peace,
Whose glorious Kingdom ne’er shall cease,
Nor Wars, nor Tumults know.
The Cloud on our Nativity
Dispels in this thy Mystery,
Thou holy, undefil’d:
Our sinful Nature’s born again
In this thy Birth, without a Stain,
And can no more be spoil’d.