1 While Angels thus, O Lord, rejoice,
shall men no Anthem raise?
O may we lose these useless tongues,
when we forget to praise!

2 Then let us swell responsive notes,
and join the heav'nly throng;
For Angels no such love have known
as we, to wake their song.

3 Good-will to sinful dust is shewn,
And peace on earth is giv'n;
For lo! th' incarnate Saviour comes,
With news of joy from heav'n!

4 Mercy and truth, with sweet accord,
his rising beams adorn;
Let heav'n and earth in concert sing—
"The Promis'd Child is born!"

5 Glory to God, in highest strains,
by highest worlds is paid;
Be glory, then, by us proclaim'd,
And by our lives display'd;

6 Till we attain those blissful realms,
where now our Saviour reigns;
To rival these celestial Choirs
in their immortal strains!