The Jews beheld with pride and scorn
The Sav­ior in His day;
They mocked His birth, and state for­lorn,
His meek and hum­ble way.

Is this, the fool­ish people said,
“A prince to rule our land?
We see no crown up­on his head,
No scep­ter in his hand.

“Where is the long and sple­ndid track
Of tri­umphs all his own;
The arm to give to Ju­dah back
Her long lost, va­cant throne?

“When He, the Lord in whom we trust,
Shall come to bless our race,
His en­emies shall lick the dust,
All na­tions seek His face.

And He, with pow’r by Heav’n as­signed,
The hearts of men shall draw
To Mo­ses’ rules, till all man­kind
Shall own no oth­er law.

Alas! the veil was on their eyes,
That hid the com­ing scene,
And led them blind­ly to des­pise
The low­ly Na­za­rene.

A con­quer­or He o’er death and hell,
Their armies to con­trol,
The proud re­bel­li­ous thoughts to quell,
And win the faith­ful soul.

A king, to whose di­vine com­mand
All pow’r and might are giv’n,
To rule on earth in ev­ery land,
And reign sup­reme in Heav’n.

A teach­er of the will di­vine,
Almighty to im­part
His right­eous law; and, line on line,
To write it on the heart.

He is our fort­ress and our rock,
Our shep­herd, called of old;
For there shall be one hap­py flock,
One Shep­herd of the fold.