The Holy Son of God Most High

The ho­ly Son of God most high

For love of Ad­am’s laps­èd race

Quit the sweet plea­sures of the sky

To bring us to that hap­py place.

His robes of light He laid aside

Which did His ma­jes­ty adorn

And the frail state of mor­tals tried

In hu­man flesh and fig­ure born.

Down from above this Day-Star slid

Himself in liv­ing earth t’en­tomb

And all His heav’n­ly glo­ry hid

In a pure low­ly vir­gin’s womb.

Whole choirs of an­gels loud­ly sing

The mys­te­ry of His sac­red birth

And the blest news to shep­herds bring

Filling their watch­ful souls with mirth.

The Son of God thus man be­came

That men the sons of God might be

And by their se­cond birth re­gain

A like­ness to His de­ity.

Lord

give us hum­ble and pure minds

And fill us with Thy heav’n­ly love

That Christ thus in our hearts en­shrined

We all may be born from above.

And be­ing thus re­ge­ne­rate

Into a life and sense di­vine

We all un­god­li­ness may hate

And to Thy liv­ing Word in­cline.

That nour­ished by that heav’n­ly food

To man­ly sta­ture we may grow

And stead­fast­ly pur­sue what’s good

That all our des­cent may know.

Grant we

Thy seed

may nev­er yield

Our souls to soil with any blot

But still stand con­quer­ors in the field

To show His pow’r who us be­got.

That af­ter this our war­fare’s done

And tra­vails or a toil­some stage

We may in Heav’n

with Christ Thy Son

Enjoy our pro­mised her­it­age.