Now join we all with ho­ly mirth,
To ce­le­brate the Sav­ior’s birth,
For He has come from Heav’n to earth,
In hum­ble guise and low­ly.
The heav’ns the bright­est pla­net lent,
That e’er had graced the fir­ma­ment,
And wise men from the east were sent
To greet this Babe so ho­ly.

And from the hea­vens all around,
Broke forth such strange, ce­les­ti­al sound,
Th’entrancèd shep­herds on the ground
Stand spell­bound, in­ly dream­ing;
If such di­vine, me­lo­di­ous hymn,
Of che­ru­bim and se­ra­phim,
These har­mo­nies that round them swim,
Are real, or on­ly seem­ing.

Fear not, O shep­herds! naught but bliss
Can come of heav’n­ly song like this;
The an­gel’s gra­cious mes­sage is
With sweet­est ac­cents blend­ed:
“All glo­ry be to God on high!
And peace on earth, for which a sigh
Hath long been raised, e’en now is nigh,
Emmanuel hath des­cend­ed.

For un­to you this Child is born,
His swad­dling clothes hold not in scorn,
Nor vir­gin mother, so for­lorn,
His na­ture He is veil­ing;
The Won­der­ful—the Coun­sel­or,
The migh­ty God Him­self is there,
Has come your deep­est woes to share—
A Sav­ior, all avail­ing!

Then with the shep­herds we will go—
Come, young and old, come, high and low,
We’ll troop to Beth­le­hem, and so
Low bend­ing each con­fess­ing,
We’ll cast away our na­ture’s sin,
For par­don, grace we’ve come to win,
We knock, O Je­sus! take us in,
Into Thy fold we’re press­ing.