Unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. Luke 2:11
Lo, here another Christmas dawns,
A gladsome, merry day;
When every sort of earthly care
May well be put away;
And thoughts of men be backward turned
Unto that blessèd morn
On which, in lowly Bethlehem,
The Savior, Christ, was born.
Hail, blessèd Babe of Bethlehem!
Our gifts of praise we bring;
We hail Thee as the Christ of God,
Our prophet, priest, and king!
The power received we own,
For future grace we pray;
And sing of Thee with joyful hearts,
This gladsome Christmas day.
What wonder if the angels’ songs
Shook those Judean hills,
Or if the very trees cried out,
And laughed the gurgling rills?
For hope had kissed the fallen world,
Of life and glory shorn;
And He, Messiah, promised long,
Had come, for Christ was born.
The beauty of the eastern morn
That ushered in that day,
But typified His glory, who
Within that manger lay;
Well might the
wise men, worshipping,
With gifts their faith aver,
They offered to a God their
Their frankincense and myrrh.
What man so blind as not to see
The gifts which in Him shine?
What man so sacrilegious as
To call Him not divine?
What man so fearless of his fate,
As not to trust His grace,
Who deigned, a righteous God, to come
And take the sinner’s place?