Scripture Verse

Today in the city of David a Savior has been born to you; He is Christ the Lord. Luke 2:11

Introduction

portrait
Paul Gerhardt
(1607–1676)

Words: Paul Ger­hardt, Prax­is Pi­e­ta­tis Me­li­ca, 1656 (Fröh­lich soll mein Herze spring­en). Trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to Eng­lish by Ca­the­rine Wink­worth, Ly­ra Ger­ma­ni­ca, 2nd Ser­ies, 1858, pag­es 13–15.

Music: Eb­el­ing Jo­hann G. Eb­e­ling, Geist­liche An­dach­ten 1666 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tunes:

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Catherine Winkworth
(1827–1878)

Lyrics

All my heart this night rejoices,
As I hear, far and near,
Sweetest angel voices;
Christ is born, their choirs are singing,
Till the air, everywhere,
Now their joy is ringing.

For it dawns, the promised morrow
Of His birth, who the earth
Rescues from her sorrow.
God to wear our form descendeth;
Of His grace to our race
Here His Son He sendeth.

Yea, so truly for us careth,
That His Son, all we’ve done,
As our offering beareth;
As our Lamb who, dying for us,
Bears our load, and to God,
Doeth in peace restore us.

Hark! a voice from yonder manger,
Soft and sweet, doth entreat,
Flee from woe and danger;
Brethren, come; from all that grieves you
You are freed; all you need
I will surely give you.

Come, then, let us hasten yonder;
Here let all, great and small,
Kneel in awe and wonder,
Love Him who with love is yearning;
Hail the star that from far
Bright with hope is burning.

Ye who pine in weary sadness,
Weep no more, for the door
Now is found of gladness.
Cling to Him, for He will guide you
Where no cross, pain or loss
Can again betide you.

Hither come, ye heavy hearted;
Who for sin, deep within,
Long and sore have smarted;
For the poisoned wounds you’re feeling
Help is near, One is here,
Mighty for their healing!

Hither come, ye poor and wretched:
Know His will is to fill
Every hand outstretchèd;
Here are riches without measure,
Here forget all regret,
Fill your hearts with treasure.

Blessèd Savior, let me find Thee!
Keep Thou me close to Thee,
Cast me not behind Thee!
Life of life, my heart Thou stillest,
Calm I rest on Thy breast,
All this void Thou fillest.

Thee, dear Lord, with heed I’ll cherish;
Live to Thee and with Thee,
Dying, shall not perish;
But shall dwell with Thee for ever,
Far on high, in the joy
That can alter never.

Forth today the Conqueror goeth,
Who the foe, sin and woe,
Death and hell, o’erthroweth.
God is man, man to deliver;
His dear Son now is one
With our blood forever.

Shall we still dread God’s displeasure,
Who, to save, freely gave
His most cherished Treasure?
To redeem us, He hath given
His own Son from the throne
Of His might in Heaven.

Should He who Himself imparted
Aught withhold from the fold,
Leave us broken hearted?
Should the Son of God not love us,
Who, to cheer sufferers here,
Left His throne above us?

If our blessèd Lord and Maker
Hated men, would He then
Be of flesh partaker?
If He in our woe delighted,
Would He bear all the care
Of our race benighted?

He becomes the Lamb that taketh
Sin away and for aye
Full atonement maketh.
For our life His own He tenders
And our race, by His grace,
Meet for glory renders.