In Triumph, Joy and Holy Fear

In tri­umph

joy and ho­ly fear

Draw near

ye faith­ful souls

draw near;

The in­fant King of Heav’n is here:

None treads aright but Beth­le­hem-ward;

Come hi­ther and adore the Lord.

A maid­en pure—oh

won­drous sight—

Has borne the ve­ry Light of light:

God is be­got­ten out of night:

All grace is in this In­fant stored;

Come hi­ther

come

ad­ore the Lord.

By an­gels called that bliss to taste

The shep­herds leave their flocks and haste

To see Him in a man­ger placed:

Then need we fur­ther be im­plored

To hast­en and ad­ore the Lord?

The wise men too—a star their guide—

By Her­od sent

from Sa­lem ride

With in­cense

gold and myrrh sup­plied:

And with their gifts our hearts be poured

At those dear feet of Christ the Lord.

The glo­ry of th’eter­nal Sire

Veiled un­der flesh we shall ad­mire

Nor quail be­fore His aw­ful fire:

That In­fant swathed shall be ad­ored:

Come hi­ther

come

’tis Christ the Lord.

Such love as this—who would not yearn

To love the lov­er in re­turn?

Behold

with rev­er­ent zeal we burn

To see the Babe proud kings ig­nored

And kiss the feet of Christ our Lord.

Ye choirs of bliss­ful an­gels

sing;

Ye vaults of Heav’n

re­spons­ive ring

All glo­ry to our God and king;

Let floods of har­mo­ny be poured

From men be­low to Christ the Lord.

To Thee be glo­ry who

to­day

In Bethl’em born

dost live al­way:

Jesus

let none their steps de­lay

To vis­it Thee

th’eter­nal Word

Made flesh

and wor­ship Christ the Lord.