  We would sing the story Of Thy wondrous love, Jesus, King of glory, On Thy throne above. Once in a rude manger Thou didst lowly lie,— Sweetest little stranger From the world on high. Sister none, nor brother, There to welcome Thee,— Only Thy dear mother Watching tenderly. Yet, unseen, around Thee, (Oh how kind and good!) Glad that they had found Thee,— Shining angels stood. Angels who from heaven Brought the wondrous word, To the whole world given,— First by shepherds heard. Their lone flocks by night, Over them were bending Angels pure and bright. And they heard them singing, “Peace, good will to men!” God’s sweet message bringing;— Near was heaven, then! Happy shepherds! speeding Unto Bethlehem, Eagerly all heeding What was told to them. And they found Thee sleeping There upon the hay,— And, with wonder weeping, They knelt down to pray. And the Wise Men sought Thee, Guided by a star! Treasures rare they brought Thee,— From their home afar. We would kneel and pray, And in kind behaviour Serve Thee day by day. And while we are singing,— Like the kings of old, We would still be bringing Frankincense and gold. Pearls of priceless beauty, Every precious gem,— Faith, and love, and duty,— For Thy diadem! So would we adore Thee, Now, and till we die,— Then, with Thee in glory, Reign above the sky.
|
|
