In a manger laid so lowly,
Came the Prince of Peace to earth;
While a choir of angels holy
Sang to celebrate His birth.
“Glory in the highest,”
Sang the glad angelic strain:

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“Glory in the highest,”
“Peace on earth, good will to men,”
“Peace on earth, good will to men.”

As the wise men from far Persia
Brought rich gifts to Jewry’s King,
Grateful love, a richer treasure,
Would we as our offering bring.
“Glory in the highest,”
Let us join th’angelic strain;

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Where Christ’s joyful kingdom cometh,
Deserts blossom as the rose;
And God’s gracious rain descendeth,
Where the coral island grows.
“Glory in the highest,”
Once more sing th’angelic strain:

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I know not where the road will lead
I follow day by day,
Or where it ends: I only know
I walk the King’s highway.

I know not if the way is long,
And no one else can say;
But rough or smooth, up hill or down,
I walk the King’s highway.

And some I love have reached the end,
But some with me may stay,
Their faith and hope still guiding me:
I walk the King’s highway.

The way is truth, the way is love,
For light and strength I pray,
And through the years of life, to God,
I walk the King’s highway.

The countless hosts lead on before,
I must not fear nor stray;
With them, the pilgrims of the faith,
I walk the King’s highway.

Through light and dark the road leads on
Till dawns the endless day,
When I shall know why in this life
I walk the King’s highway.

Wherever you may be, whatever you may see,
That would lead you into evil, say you nay,
I will not turn aside; whatever may betide,
I’ll keep along the middle of the King’s highway.

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The King’s highway, the King’s highway,
I’ll keep along the middle of the King’s highway;
I will not turn aside; whatever may betide,
I’ll keep along the middle of the King’s highway.

The meadows may be green, where bypath stile is seen,
Turn aside, the little flowers seem to say;
Be sure you take no heed—they’re trying to mislead—
Just keep along the middle of the King’s highway.

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For on enchanted ground, there’s danger all around,
And a thousand pleasant voices bid you stay,
With fingers stop your ears, and never mind the jeers,
Just keep along the middle of the King’s highway.

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Our God will guide us right, and walking in the light,
We shall win a crown of glory in the day,
When Jesus calls His own together round the throne,
Who keep along the middle of the King’s highway.

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We shall see the desert as the rose,
Walking in the King’s highway;
There’ll be singing where salvation goes,
Walking in the King’s highway.

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There’s a highway there and a way,
Where sorrow shall flee away;
And the light shines bright as the day,
Walking in the King’s highway.

We shall see the glory of the Lord,
Walking in the King’s highway;
And behold the beauty of His Word,
Walking in the King’s highway.

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There the rain shall come upon the ground,
Walking in the King’s highway;
And the springs of water will be found,
Walking in the King’s highway.

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There no ravenous beast shall make afraid,
Walking in the King’s highway;
For the purified the way was made,
Walking in the King’s highway.

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No unclean things shall pass o’er here,
Walking in the King’s highway;
But the ransomed ones without a fear,
Walking in the King’s highway.

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The God who made both Heaven and earth
And all that they contain
Will never quit His steadfast truth
Nor make His promise vain.

The poor and all oppressed by wrong
Are saved by His decree;
He gives the hungry needful food
And sets the captive free.

By Him the blind receive their sight,
By Him the fallen rise;
With constant care, His tender love
All human need supplies.

Go bury thy sorrow, the world hath its share;
Go bury it deeply, go hide it with care.
Go think of it calmly, when curtained by night;
Go tell it to Jesus, and all will be right.

Go tell it to Jesus, He knoweth thy grief;
Go tell it to Jesus, He’ll send thee relief;
Go gather the sunshine He sheds on the way:
He’ll lighten thy burden—Go, weary one, pray.

Hearts growing aweary with heavier woe
Now droop ’mid the darkness—Go, comfort them, go!
Go bury thy sorrow, let others be blessed;
Go give them the sunshine, tell Jesus the rest.

Join, all ye ransomed sons of grace,
The holy joy prolong,
And shout to the Redeemer’s praise
A solemn midnight song.

Blessing, and thanks, and love, and might,
Be to our Jesus giv’n,
Who turns our darkness into light
Who turns our hell to Heav’n.

Thither our faithful souls He leads,
Thither He bids us rise,
With crowns of joy upon our heads,
To meet Him in the skies.

Joy and triumph everlasting
Hath the heav’nly Church on high;
For that pure immortal gladness
All our feast days mourn and sigh:
Yet in death’s dark desert wild
Doth the mother aid her child;
Guards celestial thence attend us,
Stand in combat to defend us.

Here the world’s perpetual warfare
Holds from Heav’n the soul apart;
Legioned foes in shadowy terror
Vex the Sabbath of the heart.
O how happy that estate
Where delight doth not abate!
For that home the spirit yearneth,
Where none languisheth nor mourneth.

There the body hath no torment,
There the mind is free from care,
There is every voice rejoicing,
Every heart is loving there.
Angels in that city dwell;
Them their King delighteth well:
Still they joy and weary never,
More and more desiring ever.

There the seers and fathers holy,
There the prophets glorified,
All their doubts and darkness ended,
In the Light of Light abide.
There the saints, whose memories old
We in faithful hymns uphold,
Have forgot their bitter story
In the joy of Jesus’ glory.

There is a song in my heart today,
Something I never had;
Jesus has taken my sins away,
O! say, but I’m glad.

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O! say, but I’m glad, I’m glad,
O! say, but I’m glad,
Jesus has come and my cup’s overrun;
O! say, but I’m glad.

Wonderful, marvelous love He brings,
Into a heart that’s sad;
Through darkest tunnels the soul just sings,
O! say, but I’m glad.

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We have a fellowship rich and sweet,
Tongues can never relate;
Abiding in Him: the soul’s Retreat,
O! but say, I’m glad.

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Won’t you come to Him with all your care,
Weary and worn and sad?
You, too, will sing as His love you share,
O! say, but I’m glad.

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O songs of the beautiful, songs of the blest,
That breathe o’er the spirit the calmness of rest;
We list to their music, we echo the praise
Of Christ, our Redeemer, the Ancient of Days.

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Songs of the beautiful,
Songs of the beautiful,
Songs of the beautiful,
Songs of the blest.

O songs of the beautiful, songs that we hear
When clouds o’er our pathway are heavy and drear;
They tell of a city no mortal hath trod,
A city whose builder and maker is God.

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O songs of the beautiful, songs that we love,
That come from the homeland of Eden above;
We rise with their cadence, we join in their strain,
All harps that were silent are joyful again.

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O songs of the beautiful, songs we may sing
In yonder bright palace where dwelleth our King;
Thro’ ages eternal their chorus shall roll,
“All glory to Jesus,” the Light of the soul.

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Trumpet of God, sound high,
Till the hearts of the heathen shake,
And the souls that in slumber lie
At the voice of the Lord awake.
Till the fencèd cities fall
At the blast of the Gospel call,
Trumpet of God, sound high!

Hosts of the Lord, go forth:
Go, strong in the power of His rest,
Till the south be at one with the north,
And peace upon east and west;
Till the far-off lands shall thrill
With the gladness of God’s “Goodwill,”
Hosts of the Lord, go forth.

Come, as of old, like fire;
O force of the Lord, descend,
Till with love of the world’s Desire
Earth burn to its utmost end;
Till the ransomed people sing
To the glory of Christ the King,
Come, as of old, like fire.

Wake the song of joy and gladness;
Hither bring your noblest lays;
Banish every thought of sadness,
Pouring forth your highest praise.
Sing to Him Whose care has brought us
Once again with friends to meet,
And Whose loving voice has taught us,
Of the way to Jesus’ feet.

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Wake the song, wake the song,
The song of joy and gladness,
Wake the song, wake the song,
The song of Jubilee.

Joyfully with songs and banners,
We will greet the festal day;
Shout aloud our glad hosannas,
And our grateful homage pay.
We will chant our Savior’s glory
While our thoughts we raise above,
Telling still “the old old story,”
Precious theme—redeeming love!

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Thanks to Thee, O holy Father,
For the mercies of the year;
May each heart, as here we gather,
Swell with gratitude sincere.
Thanks to Thee, O loving Savior,
For redemption through Thy blood.
Breathe upon us, Holy Spirit,
Sweetly draw us near to God.

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