Hark! heard ye not the an­cient seer,
While thus the won­drous pro­mise ran?
A vir­gin shall con­ceive, and bear
A son, Im­ma­nu­el, God with man!

Hark! hear ye not the an­gel bring
His an­swer­ing mes­sage from the sky?
Hail, vir­gin blest, from whom shall spring
A son, the Son of God most high!

O Thou, who didst not scorn be­low,
The Son of Man, with us to dwell,
And us Thy Fa­ther’s glo­ry show,
The Son of God, Im­ma­nu­el.

Thou, for our sake in­car­nate made,
Thy God­head, lo! with faith we own,
Or in a ser­vant’s form ar­rayed,
Or part­ner of Thy Fa­ther’s throne.

O Je­sus, glo­ry be to Thee,
Returned to Thy ce­les­ti­al rest,
Throned with Thy Fa­ther’s ma­jes­ty,
In un­ion with the Spi­rit blest.