1 Hark! what celetial notes,
What melody we hear!
Soft on the morn it floats,
And fills the ravish'd ear.
The tunefull shell,
The golden lyre,
And vocal choir
The concert swell.

2 Th' angelick hosts descend,
With harmony divine:
See how from heav'n they bend,
And in full chorus join.
Fear not, say they;
Great joy we bring:
Jesus, your King,
Is born to day.

3 He comes, from error's night
Your wan'dring feet to save;
To realms of bliss and light
He lifts you from the grave.
This glorious morn,
(Let all attend!)
Your matchless friend,
Your Saviour's born.

4 Glory to God on high!
Ye mortals, spread the sound,
And let your raptures fly
To earth's remotest bound:
For peace on earth,
From God in heav'n,
To man is giv'n,
At Jesus' birth.