Mourner, Christ­mas comes for thee;
Hear, with low and gen­tle tone,
One who whis­pers, Look to Me!
Hope, for thou art not alone!

Not for thee the mer­ry throng,
Gladness mak­ing lone­li­er still;
Yet is thine the an­gels’ song,
Echoed clear from Beth­le­hem’s hill.

Fear ye not! from Heav’n was spok­en
Long ago, on Christ­mas Eve;
Fear thou not! is still the to­ken
Which our wait­ing hearts re­ceive.

Unto you the Christ is giv­en!
Thus sang choirs full and clear;
Now a voice on Christ­mas Ev­en
Softly ech­oes, He is here!

He knows all, thy Lord di­vine;
Mourner, though thine eye be dim,
Look to Christ—His love is thine;
Take thy Christ­mas joy from Him.