1 ’Tis come, the time so oft foretold,
The time eternal love forecast;
Four thousand years of hope have rolled,
And God hath sent His Son at last;
Let heaven, let earth, adore the plan;
Glory to God, and grace to man!
2 To swains that watched their nightly fold,
Of lowly lot, of lowly mind,
To these the tidings first were told,
That spoke of hope for lost mankind;
God gives His Son, no more He can;
Glory to God, and grace to man!
3 And well to shepherds first ’tis known,
The Lord of angels comes from high,
In humblest aspect like their own,
Good Shepherd, for His sheep to die:
O height and depth, which who shall span?
Glory to God, and grace to man!
4 Fain with those meek, those happy swains,
Lord, I would hear that angel choir;
Till, ravished by celestial strains,
My heart responds with holy fire:
That holy fire Thy breath must fan;
Glory to God, and grace to man!
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #12432