The heav’ns de­clare Thy glo­ry, Lord,
Thy love is writ­ten in Thy Word;
And we be­hold Thy bless­èd face
In works of pow­er, and words of grace;
We see Thee, Lord, when­e’er we look
In na­ture, and in Scrip­ture’s book.

Thy own pro­phet­ic Word of old
Thy fu­ture birth­place had fore­told;
That Word’s ful­fill­ment now is grav’n
In spangl­ed pag­es in the heav’ns;
The star pro­claims of Da­vid’s stem
The King new­born at Beth­le­hem.

The Gen­tile sag­es from afar,
Traversing paths lit by a star,
To Ju­dah come; the heav’n­ly ray
Of pro­phecy then points the way;
They see the star again ap­pear;
How great their joy! for Thou art here!

Not stag­gered by Thy low es­tate—
To sense how low, to faith, how great!
Myrrh, frank­in­cense, and gold they bring
To Thee as man, as Lord, and King;
To Thee they op­en all their store,
And in the Child their God adore.

Lord, make us keen of eye to heed
All lights, by which Thou wouldst us lead;
Help us to toil o’er plain and hill,
In glad obe­di­ence to Thy will;
To see by faith and hum­bly fall,
And give to Thee, who giv­est all.

Thou first to Gen­tiles wast dis­played
An in­fant in a cra­dle laid;
But all shall see Thee on Thy Throne,
And Thee their judge and king shall own;
All kings be­fore Thee shall fall low,
And ev­ery knee to Je­sus bow.

Lord, may the isles Thy law re­ceive,
And they, who know Thee not, believe;
Arise, and on the na­tions shine;
Thy preach­ers fill with grace di­vine;
That all the world at length may see
The light of Thine epi­pha­ny.