Leave, shep­herds, leave your peace­ful flocks agraz­ing!
No long­er grieve, but come, O come away!
Come and adore, your tears all changed to prais­ing;
Of Him the heav’n­ly king, O sing, O sing
Your Sav­ior born this hap­py day.

There, low­ly laid, with­in a man­ger nar­row,
A love­ly maid and infant thou shalt see!
His tend­er love hath sought thee in thy sor­row—
Thy dark­ness to re­move! He came, to prove
A lov­ing shep­herd’s care for thee!

Kings from the east! His star will guide thee tru­ly!
Where He doth rest, in love and faith draw near:
Our ris­ing sun re­ceives thy hom­age du­ly!
O bring to Him, each one—Each one! Each one!
Your in­cense and your gold and myrrh!

Who canst do all things sure­ly, hearts en­shrine
Thine ar­dors sweet and fair! For peace is his
For peace is His that through Thee liv­eth pure­ly!
And add­ed un­to this, all joy, and bliss—
Since God hath sent His Sav­ior here!