Time for a Brorson Christmas hymn!

At this sweet feast of Christmastide

At this sweet feast of Christmastide
We should through our rejoicing

Ensure God’s grace is glorified,
With art and zeal be voicing;

Through him, so humbly born that night,

With our soul’s every strength and might

Our spirits will be waking ,

Your praise shall ring out, Saviour dear,

So all the world will hear it clear,

The earth itself be shaking.

This infant child of David’s root,

Yet Lord of all creation,

Came down from heaven to commute

The sins of every nation,

He found it hard to bear the thought

This world might well be brought to nought,

His heart it filled with anguish,

He thus forsook his heavenly crown

And in great love to earth came down

To where in pain we languish.

We offer you our thanks profound,

Though they can ne’er repay you,

Our Hallelujahs shall resound,

Hosannas likewise praise you;

Within our camp God’s ark we see!

With joy we sing of victory

That will our hearts be cheering,

We sing of that sweet peace ahead,

That hell shall quake in mighty dread,

Our Christmas hymn when hearing.

God’s wrath we need no longer fear,

Of this we have assurance,

Since for our sins his son when here

Must suffer past endurance,

Both far and wide may it be known

God for our sake his son sent down

To peril, pain and dying,

Who would not then most happy be,

In Jesu’s mercy gladly see

At last his sorrows lying?

As blackest night must fade at day,

When sun’s rays glitter brightly,

So too my sorrows fall away

When I consider rightly:

That God Almighty fervently

Has loved me since eternity,

And has become my brother,

The words I never shall forget

That, sung by angels, ring out yet:

On earth peace with each other!

And though my song of joy be gripped

By deepest sighs and weeping

The cross’s hard constraint my lips

Will ne’er prevent from speaking;

For when the heart’s an open wound,

The harp of joy can then be tuned

To make more sweet its singing,

And broken hearts best know for sure

What this great feast of joy will cure,

What happiness it’s bringing.

May God be praised, our battle’s won,

Who would still be complaining?

Who would still be oppressed and glum

While days of joy are reigning?

Sing out, God’s flock, with voices raised:

My cup is full, may God be praised!

That joy’s a wondrous story,

Let Hallelujahs now resound,

God’s son is mine, I’m gladly bound

From here to realms of glory.