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.
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