Now sing we, now rejoice,
Now raise to heaven our voice;
He from whom joy streameth
Poor in a manger lies;
Not so brightly beameth
The sun in yonder skies.
Thou my Savior art!
Thou my Savior art!
Come from on high to me;
I cannot rise to Thee
Cheer my wearied spirit,
O pure and holy Child;
Through Thy grace and merit,
Blest Jesus, Lord most mild,
Draw me unto Thee!
Draw me unto Thee!
Now through His Son doth shine
The Father's grace divine.
Death o'er us had reigned
Through sin and vanity;
He for us obtained
Eternal joy on high.
May we praise Him there!
May we praise Him there!
Oh, where shall joy be found?
Where but on heavenly ground?
Where the angels singing
With all His saints unite,
Sweetest praises bringing
In heavenly joy and light.
Oh, that we were there!
Oh, that we were there!
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