Classic Poem

One holy theme on this glad morn be mine,
While angel-harpers on the cloudlets call;
O tune my lyre with ecstasy Divine,
To sing of Him who came to ransom all.
Praise Him, ye waters; winds, pour forth your lays;
Praise Him, all creatures, whether wild or tame;
Praise Him, ye multitudes, for ever praise;
Praise Him, my soul, and shout His holy name!

Jesus is born to set the shackled free,
To open wide the captive's prison-door;
To heal the sick, to cause the blind to see,
To preach the Gospel to the bruised and poor;
To cheer the broken-hearted with His love,
Jesus is born, O shout it, shout it high.
List, earth, and bend, blue firmament above,
A manger holds the Lord of earth and sky.

Glory to God, goodwill and peace on earth!
Angelic voices fill the lofty void,
Bright angels usher in Messiah's birth;
Satan is conquer'd, death and hell destroy'd.
Away with sorrow! Heaven's eternal King
Lies with the oxen on this holy morn;
Jerusalem is free! Creation, sing,
Messiah, God, the Prince of Peace, is born!