A meteor bright its wondrous light
O’er Bethlem’s city shed,
To lead the way where Jesus lay,
Upon His lonely bed.
No nobles wait, no pomp or state
Surrounds the Babe divine,
But o’er His head bright circles spread,
In golden glories shine.
The wise men came to bless His name
And own the Savior King,
And shepherd swains from far off plains
Their hearts’ glad incense bring.
So lowly born, He was the scorn
Of nations, kings and priests;
No belfry chime that Christmastime
Rang at their lordly feasts.
But heavenly choirs attuned their lyres
To hail a prince’s birth,
And rapturous song from angel throng
Greeted the ear of earth.
The star is gone—the song flows on
To herald brighter days;
And truth’s pure beams in glowing streams
Make clear life’s darkened ways.