Jesus the Lord is born,
To set His people free,
From Sinai’s dreadful storm,
And every misery;
From all that hell and sin can do,
And take them safe to glory, too.
Whatever guest appeared,
The public inn to crowd;
No lodgings could be spared
For the incarnate Word;
A stable must the birthplace be
Of Him who fills immensity.
The sinner’s guilty heart
For sin provides a home;
Nor with a lust will part,
To give the Savior room;
Just like the bustling, crowded inn,
There’s room for all, excepting Him.
For passion, lust and pride,
And enmity to God;
For aught that can deride
The Savior’s precious blood,
There’s room and entertainment here,
But none for Him whom devils fear.
Immortal thanks to Him,
Whose matchless, sovereign grace
Breaks down the power of sin
And makes Himself a place;
He takes possession of the mind,
And proves Himself supremely kind.