Good tidings of great joy.
Hark! hark! the notes of joy
Roll o’er the heavenly plains,
And seraphs find employ
For their sublimest strains:
Some new delight in heaven is known;
Loud sound the harps around the throne.
2 Hark! hark! the sound draws nigh—
The joyful host descends;
The Lord forsakes the sky,
To earth his footsteps bends:
He comes to bless our fallen race;
He comes with messages of grace.
3 Bear, bear the tidings round!
Let every mortal know
What love in God is found,
What pity he can show:
Ye winds that blow, ye waves that roll,
Bear the glad news from pole to pole.
4 Strike, strike the harps again,
To great Immanuel’s name!
Arise, ye sons of men,
And all his grace proclaim:
Angels and men, wake every string,
’Tis God the Saviour’s praise we sing!