Long, long ago in Beth­le­hem
The Christ child came,
With no one but the mo­ther sweet
To warm His lit­tle hands and feet,
And know His name.
How won­der­ful to think that He
Was God of all!
No sign of Hea­ven’s bright es­tate,
To show that He was rich and great,
That babe, so small!
Yet thou­sand angels wor­shiped Him
On that dark night,
To their dear Lord, on rev­er­ent knee
Poor shep­herds knelt, made wise to see
By heav’n­ly light.
Still in the long dark win­ter hours
The Christ child comes;
Have we no place, O child­ren dear?
Must we not wish to keep Him here,
In our own homes?
O Christ child sweet, our in­fant king!
We child­ren pray
Make in our hearts a lit­tle place
Where we may keep Thee, by Thy grace,
On Christ­mas Day.