Music on Christmas Morning

Music I love—but ne’er a strain

Could kin­dle rap­tures so di­vine

So grief as­suage

so con­quer pain

And rouse this pen­sive heart of mine;

As that we hear on Chris­tmas morn

Upon the win­try breez­es borne.

Though dark­ness still her em­pire keep

And hours must pass

ere morn­ing break;

From trou­bled dreams

or slum­bers deep

That mu­sic kind­ly bids us wake:

It calls us

with an an­gel’s voice

To wake

and wor­ship

and re­joice.

To greet with joy the glo­ri­ous morn

Which an­gels wel­comed long ago

When our re­deem­ing Lord was born

To bring the light of Heav­en be­low;

The pow­ers of dark­ness to dis­pel

And res­cue Earth from death and hell.

While list­en­ing to that sac­red strain

My rap­tured spir­it soars on high;

I seem to hear those songs again

Resounding through the op­en sky

That kin­dled such di­vine de­light

In those who watched their flocks by night.

With them

I ce­le­brate His birth;

Glory to God

in high­est Heav’n

Good will to men

and peace on Earth

To us a Sav­ior king is giv­en;

Our God is come to claim His own

And Sa­tan’s pow­er is ov­er­thrown!

A sin­less God

for si­nful men

Descends to su­ffer and to bleed;

Hell must re­nounce its em­pire then;

The price is paid

the world is freed

And Sa­tan’s self must now con­fess

That Christ has earned a right to bless.

Now ho­ly peace may smile from Heav­en

And heav’n­ly truth from earth shall spring:

The cap­tive’s gall­ing bonds are riv­en

For our Re­deem­er is our king;

And He that gave His blood for men

Will lead us home to God again.