Now sing we, now re­joice,
Now raise to Heav’n our voice;
From man­ger poor see stream­ing,
Bright rays of joy now beam­ing;
No gleam of sun, no star light
Is like this love, so pure and bright;
Thou my Sav­ior art!
Thou my Sav­ior art!

Now giv­en from on high to me
I can­not rise to Thee:
O cheer my wea­ried spir­it:
O pure and ho­ly Child,
Through all Thy grace and mer­it,
Blest Je­sus! Gen­tle Lord most mild,
Draw me aft­er Thee!
Draw me aft­er Thee!

Now through His Son doth shine
The Fa­ther’s grace di­vine:
Death ov­er us hath reign­éd
Through sin and boast­ful va­ni­ty;
The Son for us ob­tain­éd
Eternal joy and peace on high.
May we praise Him there!
May we praise Him there!

O where shall joy be found?
Where but on heav’n­ly ground?
Where now the an­gels sing­ing
With all His saints unite,
Their prais­es sweet­ly sing­ing
In heav’n­ly joy, eter­nal light:
May we praise Him there!
May we praise Him there!