Unto us a child is born,
Unto us a son is giv’n,
Child the mark of hu­man scorn;
Son—the heir of earth and Heav’n;
Son of God, a hu­man child;
God with us, His won­drous name;
Holy, harm­less, un­de­filed,
Yet or­dained to death and shame.

Oh, that by a wor­thy song
We might ec­ho back the strain,
Erst that greet­ed, loud and long,
Bethlehem’s as­ton­ished plain!
Might the man­ger cra­dled King
With the shep­herd watch be­hold,
And with star-led sag­es bring
Frankincense, and myrrh and gold!

Great Re­deem­er, Thou hast died;
Thou hast wrought the work sub­lime;
And the words have ech­oed wide
To the far­thest bounds of time—
It is fin­ished!—fin­ished long
Is Thy great re­demp­tion plan;
And we bless Thee in our song,
Lord of an­gels, Son of Man!

Wonderful Thy name we call;
Counselor, to Thee we bow;
Mighty God, the Lord of all,
Father ev­er­last­ing Thou,
Prince of Peace—Thy stead­fast throne
Strong in judg­ment stands for aye;
Every land Thy might shall own,
All Thy scep­ter shall ob­ey.