Music I lovebut never strain Could kindle1 raptures2 so pine, So grief assuage3, so conquer pain, And rouse this pensive4 heart of mine As that we hear on Christmas morn, Upon the wintry breezes borne.
Though Darkness still her empire keep, And hours must pass, ere morning break； From troubled dreams, or slumbers5 deep, That music KINDLY6 bids us wake： It calls us, with an angel's voice, To wake, and worship, and rejoice；
To greet with joy the glorious morn, Which angels welcomed long ago, When our redeeming7 Lord was born, To bring the light of Heaven below； The Powers of Darkness to dispel8, And rescue Earth from Death and Hell.
While listening to that sacred strain, My raptured9 spirit soars on high； I seem to hear those songs again Resounding10 through the open sky, That kindled11 such pine delight, In those who watched their flocks by night.
With them I celebrate His birth Glory to God, in highest Heaven, Good-will to men, and peace on earth, To us a Saviour-king is given； Our God is come to claim His own, And Satan's power is overthrown12！
A sinless God, for sinful men, Descends13 to suffer and to bleed； Hell MUST renounce14 its empire then； The price is paid, the world is freed, And Satan's self must now confess That Christ has earned a RIGHT to bless：
Now holy Peace may smile from heaven, And heavenly Truth from earth shall spring： The captive's galling15 bonds are riven, For our Redeemer is our king； And He that gave his blood for men Will lead us home to God again.
