The won­der work­ing Mas­ter
Once deigned His race to save,
When dry land for His peo­ple
He made the Red Sea wave;
Now born for us, all will­ing,
Of maid­en pure and sweet,
The path to heav’n­ly man­sions
He op­ens to our feet.

The bush un­burned most tru­ly
Portrays the ho­ly womb,
Whence sprung the Word in­car­nate
To loose the an­cient doom,
And all the bit­ter sor­rows
Of Eva’s curse to stay,
The Word, who hi­ther wend­ed
Our sin to do away.

To Him, with God the Fa­ther
In sub­stance tru­ly One,
One with man­kind, from all men
Be laud for ev­er done:
God to our hu­man na­ture,
To our mor­tal­ity
In form con­joined, we wor­ship,
And Him we glo­ri­fy.

Thee, Word of God eter­nal,
Who wert be­fore the sun,
The star showed to the Ma­gi,
A poor and suf­fer­ing One:
Thee, swad­dled in a man­ger,
They saw with glad ac­cord,
And hailed Thee with re­joic­ing,
True man, and yet the Lord.