Scripture Verse

A virgin shall conceive, and bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel. Isaiah 7:14


Paul Gerhardt

Words: Paul Ger­hardt, 1650 (Wir sing­en dir, Im­ma-nu­el). Trans­lat­ed from Ger­man to Eng­lish by Ca­the­rine Wink­worth, Ly­ra Ger­ma­ni­ca (Lon­don & New York: George Newnes & Charles Scrib­ner’s Sons, 1855), pag­es 18–19.

Music: Tru­ro, from Psal­mo­dia Ev­an­ge-li­ca, by Tho­mas Will­iams, 1789 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Catherine Winkworth


Thee, O Im­ma­nu­el, we praise,
The Prince of Life and Fount of Grace,
The Morn­ing Star, the Heav’n­ly Flow­er,
The vir­gin’s son, the Lord of Pow­er.

With all Thy saints, Thee, Lord, we sing,
Praise, hon­or, thanks to Thee we bring,
That Thou, O long ex­pect­ed guest,
Hast come at last to make us blest!

Since first the world be­gan to be,
How ma­ny a heart hath longed for Thee;
Long years our fa­thers hoped of old
Their eyes might yet Thy light be­hold.

The pro­phets cried, Ah, would He came
To break the fet­ters of our shame;
That help from Zi­on came to men,
Israel were glad, and pros­pered then!

Now art Thou here; we know Thee now,
In lowly man­ger li­eth Thou;
A child, yet mak­est all things great,
Poor, yet is earth Thy robe of state.

From Thee alone all glad­ness flows,
Who yet shalt bear such bit­ter woes;
Earth’s light and com­fort Thou shalt be,
Yet none shall watch to com­fort Thee.

All heav’ns are Thine, yet Thou dost come
To so­journ in a stran­ger’s home;
Thou hang­est on Thy mo­ther’s breast
Who art the joy of spir­its blest.

Now fear­less I can look on Thee,
From sin and grief Thou sett’st me free;
Thou bear­est wrath, Thou con­quer­est death,
Fear turns to joy Thy glance be­neath.

Thou art my head, my Lord di­vine,
I am Thy mem­ber, whol­ly Thine,
And in Thy Spir­it’s strength would still
Serve Thee ac­cord­ing to Thy will.

Thus will I sing Thy prais­es here
With joyful spir­it year by year;
And they shall sound be­fore Thy throne,
Where time nor num­ber more are known.