Sing we now of joy and glad­ness,
Christ our king come down to earth,
Frees mankind from pain and sad­ness
Hail th’incarnate Sav­ior’s birth.
List, angelic strains are stream­ing
Through the Orient skies;
Look, celestial light is beam­ing
On the wondering shep­herds’ eyes.

Haste we, then, this birth­day morn­ing,
To the Bethlehem cat­tle shed;
Heed we not, tho’ scant adorn­ing
Deck the lowly man­ger bed;
Though man’s fleshly form He wear­eth,
In His birthplace bare,
He th’eter­nal kingdom shar­eth;
Christ Himself is cradled there.

Offer we in plenteous mea­sure
Gold and gem and costly spice;
If our hearts attend our trea­sure
He’ll accept the sac­ri­fice:
If to Him our life be giv­en,
Raised from earth our eyes,
He will grant us rest in Hea­ven,
In His rest—in pa­ra­dise.