Repeat the dear old story
Of the royal Babe who came,
His throne a lowly manger,
In far off Bethlehem.
Tell how the sweet girl mother
Watched over the sinless One,
And in her pure heart pondered
The strange things that were done.

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Oh! tell the story over,
Its charm grows never, never dim;
The story of the Christ child,
The Babe of Bethlehem.

Tell how the shepherds watching,
As David watched of yore,
Heard wondrous song of angels,
Men never heard before.
Tell how they hastened quickly
To see the Babe whose birth
Could bring from Heaven the angels
To sing of peace on earth.

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Tell how the wise men followed
The beauteous guiding star
Which led them to the manger,
From countries strange and far.
Tell of their lowly worship,
The royal gifts they brought,
Thereby to fitly honor
The kingly Babe they sought.

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The Babe soon left the manger,
The shepherds might not stay,
The wise men to their country
Returned another way.
’Tis ages since the Christ child
Slept in the manger low,
But still we love its story:
That Christmas long ago.

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