Lightly Bound My Bosom, Ringing

Lightly bound my bo­som

ring­ing

Joyous lays

when in praise

Angels all are sing­ing

List! O list the swell­ing chor­us:

Christ is born! this fair morn

Fills the wel­kin o’er us.

Forth to­day the Con­quer­or go­eth

Who the foe

sin and woe

Death and hell o’er­throw­eth.

God with man be­comes unit­ed

Flesh is made for our aid

Healing all that’s blight­ed.

Shall we still dread God’s dis­plea­sure

Who to save free­ly gave

Us His dea­rest trea­sure?

Who from all the ills that grieve us

In His love from above

Sends Him to re­lieve us?

Should He

who Him­self im­par­ted

Aught with­hold from the fold

Leave us brok­en-heart­ed?

Should the Son of God not love us

Who to cheer suf­fer­ers here

Left His throne above us?

If our bless­èd Lord and mak­er

Hated men

would He then

Be of flesh par­tak­er?

If He in our woe de­light­ed

Would He bear all the care

Of our race be­night­ed?

He be­comes the Lamb that tak­eth

Sin away

and for aye

Full atone­ment mak­eth.

For our life His own He ten­ders

And our race

by His grace

Meet for glo­ry ren­ders.

Lowly lies He in the man­ger

And to all sends the call:

Ye are freed from an­ger—

Cease your wail­ing in your weak­ness

All your stains

all your pains

I have borne in meek­ness.

Come

then

ban­ish all your sad­ness

One and all

great and small

Come with songs of glad­ness;

Love Him who with love is glow­ing

View the star

near and far

Light and joy be­stow­ing.

Ye whose ang­uish knew no mea­sure

Grieve no more

see the door

To ce­les­ti­al plea­sure:

Come

He will your jour­ney glad­den

To the rest of the blest

Where no sin shall sad­den.

Ye whom con­science sore­ly trou­bles

All whose toil

pain to foil

But its wrath re­dou­bles

Hither come with all your bruis­es

Here is One who to none

Healing balm re­fus­es.

Come all ye whom want op­press­es

Here beho­ld gems and gold

All He free­ly bless­es.

Come and taste that He is gra­cious—

To our hearts He im­parts

Jewels rare and pre­cious.

Let me in my arms re­ceive Thee

On Thy breast let me rest

Savior

ne’er to leave Thee!

Since Thou hast Thy­self pre­sent­ed

Now to me

I shall be

Evermore con­tent­ed.

Now that Thou my na­ture wear­est

Guilt no more racks me sore—

Thou its bur­den bear­est.

Now from ev­ery spot and wrin­kle

I am free

since Thou me

With Thy blood dost sprin­kle.

I am pure in Thee

be­liev­ing

From Thy store ev­er­more

Richest robes re­ceiv­ing.

In my heart I will en­fold Thee

Treasure rare! Let me there

Raptured ev­er hold Thee!

Thee I will de­part from nev­er

While I’ve breath

nor shall death

From Thy love me sev­er!

And in Heav’n

by saints sur­round­ed

I shall be still with Thee

Tasting bliss un­bound­ed!