Praise

Awake, awake the sacred song

To our incarnate Lord;

Let ev'ry heart, and ev'ry tongue

Adore th’eternal word.

That awful word, that sov'reign pow'r,

By whom the worlds were made;

(O happy marn! illustrious hour!)

Was once in flesh array'd!

Then shone almighty pow'r and love

In all their glorious forms:

When Jesus left his throne above

To dwell with sinful worms.

To dwell with misery below,

The Saviour left the skies;

And sunk to wretchedness and woe,

That worthless man might rise.

Adoring angels tun'd their songs

To hail the joyful day;

With rapture then, let mortal tongues

Their grateful worship pay.

What glory, Lord, to thee is due!

With wonder we adore;

But could we sing as angels do,

Our highest praise were poor.