Praise God the Lord, Ye Sons of Men

Praise God the Lord

ye sons of men

Before His high­est throne;

Today He op­ens Heav’n again

And gives us His own Son.

He leaves His heav’n­ly Fa­ther’s throne

Is born an in­fant small

And in a man­ger

poor and lone

Lies in a hum­ble stall.

He veils in flesh His pow­er di­vine

A serv­ant’s form to take;

In want and low­li­ness must pine

Who Heav’n and earth did make.

He ne­stles at His mo­ther’s breast

Receives her ten­der care

Whom an­gels hail with joy most blest

King Da­vid’s ro­yal heir.

’Tis He who in these lat­ter days

From Ju­dah’s tribe should come

By whom the Fa­ther would up­raise

The Church

His Christ­en­dom.

A won­drous change which He does make!

He takes our flesh and blood

And He con­ceals for sin­ners’ sake

His ma­jes­ty of God.

He serves that I a lord may be;

A great ex­change in­deed!

Could Je­sus’ love do more for me

To help me in my need?

He op­ens us again the door

Of para­dise today;

The an­gel guards the gate no more

To God our thanks we pay.