I sing the birth was born to­night,
The Au­thor both of life and light;
The an­gels so did sound it,
And like the rav­ished shep­herds said,
Who saw the light, and were afraid,
Yet searched, and true they found it.

The Son of God, th’eter­nal King,
That did us all sal­va­tion bring,
And freed the soul from dan­ger;
He whom the whole world could not take,
The Word, which Hea­ven and earth did make,
Was now laid in a man­ger.

The Fa­ther’s wis­dom willed it so,
The Son’s obe­di­ence knew no No,
Both wills were in one sta­ture;
And as that wis­dom had de­creed,
The Word was now made flesh in­deed,
And took on Him our na­ture.

What com­fort by Him do we win?
Who made Him­self the Prince of sin,
To make us heirs of glo­ry?
To see this babe, all in­no­cence,
A mar­tyr born in our de­fense,
Can man for­get this sto­ry?