Come all fresh and gay, let us keep Holiday,
With hymns let us Jesus adore;
Let us him celebrate, both early and late,
Who sav'd us from death by his pow'r.

Aloud let us sing, 'till the whole world does ring,
And our notes to the heavens aspire,
That the angels above with our songs we may move,
And teach them to join in the quire.

When nor men cou'd befriend, nor saints their aid lend,
Nor angels, nor ought that's below,
Any good cou'd have done, God sent us his Son,
To save us from sorrow and woe.

What sire with a score of children, or more,
The worst unto death would expose,
Or consent to the loss of one on the cross,
Or force him to fight for his foes?

Yet, with pity God mov'd, gave the Son whom he lov'd,
And esteem'd far above all the rest,
For mortals to die, suspended on high,
Although we were rebels profest.

Our Father let's praise then, on these holidays,
With hearts full of ardor and love,
Who gave us his heir, distress and despair
Far out of our sight to remove.

Next, let us applaud the Son of our God,
Who health to the universe gave,
Who quitted the sky, and the glories on high,
His servants from sorrow to save.

From heaven above, and God's bosom of love,
For our great advantage, he came -
He came, for our sake, his manhood to take;
And so we his brethren became!

The meek harmless Lamb to this nether world came,
To a crib, from the regions above
And the heavenly host -to save us, when lost :
So great his compassion and love!

Our ever bless'd Lord, I will call him the Word,
Himself the great God, and God's heir,
Of Mary was born, as on this blessed morn,
To save us from woe and despair.

The Godhead on high, who fram'd earth, sun, and sky,
With the waters, that make up the main,
Our flesh did assume, and an Infant become,
And then by base soldiers was slain.

Come then let us raise our voices, to praise
Christ Jesus our Saviour and King ;
With harp and with tongue, let us join all day long,
And hymns to his honour let's sing.

All creatures that move, in the heavens above,
On earth, or in th' ocean below,
Let's freely invite in his praise to unite,
And our Saviour's great goodness to show.

Like Shadrach in fire, or the Baptist's old Sire,
Like Miriam and Moses, let's praise
Our Saviour (who came from Hell's raging flame,
To save us) the rest of our days.

Then still bear in mind our Saviour so kind,
This season devote to his praise,
In gladness and joy, let us always employ,
And grateful thanksgivings, those days.

Heav'n bids us rejoice with heart and with voice,
At church, or where'er we resort,
In the Giver of Peace, and of joys that ne'er cease;
So with wisdom we season our sport.

Then let us this day with hearts blithe and gay,
And faces that glisten and shine,
In Jesus rejoice, with ear-thrilling voice,
And ev'ry dull sorrow resign.

On this sacred morn your houses adorn,
Your boards spread with cheer of the best ;
Of which, for Christ's sake, let poor neighbours partake,
And banish all grief from the feast.

Quite elated appear, take
enough
of good cheer,
But
more
, like a pestilence, shun :
True bliss never think in meat, or in drink,
To find - but in Jesus alone.

All the holidays long chant some heavenly song,
Mere sing-song, or satire, ne'er mind;
But trust in the Lord, and in his holy word,
From whom you sure pardon shall find.

To taverns ne'er enter - to brothels ne'er venture -
To spend so your time, is a shame!
With nonsense and noise, you the fiend thus rejoice,
And foully dishonour Christ's name.

Quit your cards in a trice, and your rattling of dice,
Your riots, which mankind debase -
Your oaths loud and foul, which must shock each good soul,
And Christ's solemn birth-day disgrace.

In David's sweet page, or the Gospels, engage,
Instead of your cards and your dice:
More proper by far, those holy books are,
Than them spotted panders to vice.

Exult then, and God your Redeemer applaud,
His glories with transport recite;
Your hands clap, and sing to the praise of heav'n's king,
And take in the task true delight.

Let's laud to the skies the Spirit so wise,
Who shows from the gospel's pure lore,
That pardon and peace, with joys that ne'er cease,
Through Christ, are still for us in store.

To the Father above - to the Son of his love -
To the Spirit, that sanctifies all -
Be now, and each hour, all glory and pow'r,
From each on this well-peopl'd ball.