Sing, Ye Ransomed Nations, Sing

Sing

ye ran­somed na­tions

sing

Praises to our new-born king;

Son of Man our mak­er is

Lord of Hosts and Prince of Peace.

Lo! He lays His glo­ry by

Emptied of His ma­jes­ty!

See the God who all things made

Humbly in a man­ger laid.

Cast we off our need­less fear

Boldly to His cratch draw near;

Jesus is our flesh and bone

God with us is all our own.

Let us then with an­gels gaze

On our new-born mon­arch’s face

With the choir ce­les­ti­al joined

Shout the Sav­ior of man­kind.

Son of Man

will He des­pise

Man’s well mean­ing sac­ri­fice?

No; with con­des­cend­ing grace

He ac­cepts His crea­tures’ praise.

Will His ma­jes­ty dis­dain

The poor shep­herd’s sim­ple strain?

No; for Is­rael’s shep­herd He

Loves their art­less me­lo­dy.

He will not re­fuse the song

Of the stam­mer­ing in­fant’s tongue;

Babes He hears hu­mane­ly mild

Once Him­self a lit­tle child.

Let us then our Prince pro­claim

Humbly chant Im­ma­nu­el’s name;

Publish at His won­drous birth

Praise in Heav­en and peace on earth.

Triumph in our Sav­ior’s love

Till He takes us up ab­ove

All His ma­jes­ty dis­plays

Shows us all His glo­ri­ous face.