Praise God the Lord, ye sons of men,
Before His high­est throne;
Today He op­ens Heav’n again
And gives us His own Son.

He leaves His heav’n­ly Fa­ther’s throne
Is born an in­fant small,
And in a man­ger, poor and lone,
Lies in a hum­ble stall.

He veils in flesh His pow­er di­vine
A serv­ant’s form to take;
In want and low­li­ness must pine
Who Heav’n and earth did make.

He ne­stles at His mo­ther’s breast,
Receives her ten­der care,
Whom an­gels hail with joy most blest,
King Da­vid’s ro­yal heir.

’Tis He who in these lat­ter days
From Ju­dah’s tribe should come,
By whom the Fa­ther would up­raise
The Church, His Christ­en­dom.

A won­drous change which He does make!
He takes our flesh and blood,
And He con­ceals for sin­ners’ sake
His ma­jes­ty of God.

He serves that I a lord may be;
A great ex­change in­deed!
Could Je­sus’ love do more for me
To help me in my need?

He op­ens us again the door
Of pa­ra­dise today;
The an­gel guards the gate no more
To God our thanks we pay.