119 C. H. M. Glory to God—good will to men.
In hymns of praise, eternal God, When thy creating hand Stretched the blue arch of heaven abroad, And meted sea and land, The morning stars together sung, And shouts of joy from angels rung.
2 Than earth’s prime hour, more joyous far Was the eventful morn, When the bright beam of Bethlehem’s star Announced a Saviour born! Then sweeter strains from heaven began “Glory to God—good will to man.”
3 Babe of the manger! can it be? Art thou the Son of God? Shall subject nations bow the knee, And kings obey thy nod? Shall thrones and monarchs prostrate fall Before the tenant of a stall?
4 ’Tis he! the hymning seraphs cry, While hovering drawn to earth; ’Tis he, the shepherds’ songs reply; Hail! hail! Immanuel’s birth; The rod of peace those hands shall bear, That brow a crown of glory wear!
5 ’Tis he! the eastern sages sing, And spread their golden hoard; ’Tis he! the hills of Zion ring, Hosanna to the Lord! The Prince of long prophetic years To-day in Bethlehem appears!
120 C. M. double. Song of the angels.
It came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth To touch their harps of gold: “Peace to the earth, good will to men, From heaven’s all-gracious King;” The world in solemn stillness lay To hear the angels sing.
2 Still through the cloven skies they come With peaceful wings unfurled; And still their heavenly music floats O’er all the weary world: Above its sad and lowly plains They bend on heavenly wing, And ever o’er its Babel sounds The blesséd angels sing.
3 Yet with the woes of sin and strife The world has suffered long; Beneath the angel-strain have rolled Two thousand years of wrong; And men, at war with men, hear not The love-song which they bring: O! hush the noise, ye men of strife, And hear the angels sing!
4 And ye, beneath life’s crushing load, Whose forms are bending low, Who toil along the climbing way With painful steps and slow; Look now! for glad and golden hours Come swiftly on the wing: O! rest beside the weary road, And hear the angels sing!
5 For lo! the days are hastening on, By prophet-bards foretold, When with the ever-circling years Comes round the age of gold; When peace shall over all the earth Its ancient splendor fling, And the whole world send back the song Which now the angels sing.
121 C. M. Mortals, awake.
Mortals! awake, with angels join, And chant the solemn lay; Love, joy, and gratitude combine To hail the auspicious day.
2 In heaven the rapturous song began, And sweet seraphic fire Through all the shining legions ran, And swept the sounding lyre.
3 The theme, the song, the joy was new To each angelic tongue; Swift through the realms of light it flew, And loud the echo rung.
4 Down through the portals of the sky The pealing anthem ran, And angels flew with eager joy To bear the news to man.
5 Hark! the cherubic armies shout, And glory leads the song, Peace and salvation swell the note Of all the heavenly throng.
6 With joy the chorus we’ll repeat, “Glory to God on high! Good will and peace are now complete— Jesus was born to die!”
7 Hail, Prince of life! for ever hail! Redeemer—brother—friend! Though earth, and time, and life shall fail, Thy praise shall never end.
122 C. M. Isaiah 9:6.
To us a child of hope is born, To us a Son is given; Him shall the tribes of earth obey, Him, all the hosts of heaven.
2 His name shall be the Prince of Peace, For evermore adored, The Wonderful, the Counsellor, The great and mighty Lord.
3 His power, increasing, still shall spread; His reign no end shall know; Justice shall guard his throne above, And peace abound below.
123 C. M. The day-spring from on high.
Calm on the listening ear of night, Come heaven’s melodious strains, Where wild Judea stretches far Her silver-mantled plains.
2 Celestial choirs, from courts above, Shed sacred glories there, And angels, with their sparkling lyres, Make music on the air.
3 The answering hills of Palestine Send back the glad reply; And greet, from all their holy hights, The day-spring from on high.
4 O’er the blue depths of Galilee There comes a holier calm, And Sharon waves, in solemn praise, Her silent groves of palm.
5 “Glory to God!” the sounding skies Loud with their anthems ring— “Peace to the earth, good will to men, From heaven’s eternal King.”
6 Light on thy hill, Jerusalem! The Saviour now is born! And bright on Bethlehem’s joyous plains Breaks the first Advent morn.
124 C. M. The Advent.
Hark, the glad sound! the Saviour comes! The Saviour promised long! Let every heart prepare a throne, And every voice a song.