1 All hail to thee, O blessed morn!
To tidings by the prophets borne
Hast Thou fulfillment given.
O sacred and immortal day,
When unto earth, in glorious ray,
Descends the grace of heaven,
Singing, Ringing,
Sounds are blending,
Praises sending
Unto heaven
For the Savior to us given.

2 ’Tis God’s own Image and, withal,
The Son of Man, that mortals all
May find in Him a brother.
He comes, with peace and love to bide
On earth, the erring race to guide
And help as could no other;
Rather Gather,
Closer, fonder,
Sheep that wander,
Feed and fold them,
Than let evil powers hold them.

3 He tears, like other men, will shed,
Our sorrows share and be our aid
Through His eternal power;
The Lord’s good will unto us show,
And mingle in our cup of woe
The drops of mercy’s shower;
Dying, Buying,
Through His passion
Our salvation,
And to mortals
Opening the heav'nly portals.

4 He comes, for our redemption sent,
And by His glory heav'n is rent,
To close upon us never;
Our blessed Shepherd He would be,
Whom we may follow faithfully
And be with Him forever;
Higher, Nigher
Glory winging,
Praises singing
To the Father
And His Son, our Lord and Brother.