On the Nativity of Christ

Awake from silence every voice, Each chearful pipe and sounding string; Let ev'ry grateful heart rejoice, And ev'ry tongue in rapture sing. On this distinguish'd day of grace Th' eternal Prince of glory came, To purge the guilt of human race, And save them by his pow'rful name. Bow down your heads, ye lofty pines, Ye mountains crown'd with cedars tall; Be still, ye rude, imperious winds, Throughout the wide terrestrial ball. Let nought but harmony and love O'er all th' expanded surface reign, And let the sacred choir above Approve, and join the Heav'nly strain. When we in bondage were exil'd, And rebels to th' eternal God, Our souls, with blackest guilt defil'd, Obnoxious to th' impending rod; That from his seat of perfect bliss The Son of glory shou'd descend, To offer man the terms of peace, And his unbounded grace extend. Such goodness, such stupendous grace! Nor men, nor angels can explore; Then let us, what we cannot trace, With awful reverence adore. Ye wing'd inhabitants of air, All ye that graze the verdant plain; Ye herds, that to the wilds repair, And ye that skim the surging main, Some signs of exultation show, While grateful minds your voices raise, 'Tis all that mortals can below, To hail the day in songs of praise. While skilful hands the chorus join, And tune the rapture-raising lyre, While grateful strains of love divine, Serene, extatic joys inspire. Thus sacred be the happy day, While sun, and moon, and stars endure; Till nature feels her last decay, And time itself shall be no more.