My heart is fixed, O God, my heart
Is fixed to triumph in Thy grace:
Awake, my lute, and bear a part
My glory is to sing Thy praise,
Till all Thy nature I partake,
And bright in all thine image wake.

Thee will I praise among thine own;
Thee will I to the world extol,
And make Thy truth and goodness known:
Thy goodness, Lord, is over all;
Thy truth and grace the heavens transcend;
Thy faithful mercies never end.

Be Thou exalted, Lord, above
The highest name in earth or heaven;
Let angels sing Thy glorious love,
And bless the Name to sinners given;
All earth and heaven their King proclaim!
Bow every knee to Jesus’ Name!

Sing, ye ransomed nations, sing
Praises to our new-born King;
Son of Man our Maker is,
Lord of Hosts and Prince of Peace.

Lo! He lays His glory by,
Emptied of His majesty!
See the God Who all things made,
Humbly in a manger laid.

Cast we off our needless fear,
Boldly to His cratch draw near;
Jesus is our flesh and bone,
God-with-Us is all our own.

Let us then with angels gaze
On our new-born Monarch’s face,
With the choir celestial joined,
Shout the Savior of mankind.

Son of Man, will He despise
Man’s well meaning sacrifice?
No; with condescending grace
He accepts His creature’s praise.

Will His majesty disdain
The poor shepherd’s simple strain?
No; for Israel’s Shepherd He
Loves their artless melody.

He will not refuse the song
Of the stammering infant’s tongue;
Babes He hears humanely mild,
Once Himself a little Child.

Let us then our Prince proclaim,
Humbly chant Immanuel’s Name;
Publish at His wondrous birth
Praise in Heaven and peace on earth.

Triumph in our Savior’s love,
Till He takes us up above,
All His majesty displays,
Shows us all His glorious face.

In boundless mercy, gracious Lord, appear,
Darkness dispel, the humble mourner cheer;
Vain thoughts remove, melt down the flinty heart,
Draw every soul to choose the better part.

Thy presence fills the universal space,
Thy grace appears to all the human race,
Oh! visit us with light and life divine,
Fill every soul, for every soul is Thine.

Thou, blessèd Jesus, art my Lord, my Love:
Thou art my King: from Thee I would not move,
Hence earthly charms, far, far, from me depart,
Nor seek to draw from my dear Lord my heart.

That uncreated beauty, which has gained
My ravished heart, has all my glory stained:
Thy loveliness my soul has prepossessed,
And left no room for any other guest.