’Twas in the win­ter cold, when earth
Was de­so­late and wild,
That an­gels wel­comed at His birth
The ev­er­last­ing Child.
From realms of ev­er bright’n­ing day,
And from His throne above
He came with hu­man­kind to stay,
All low­li­ness and love.

Then in the man­ger the poor beast
Was pre­sent with his Lord;
Then swains and pil­grims from the East
Saw, won­dered, and ad­ored.
And I this morn would come with them
This bless­èd sight to see,
And to the Babe of Beth­le­hem
Bend low the re­ver­ent knee.

But I have not, it makes me sigh,
One of­fer­ing in my pow­er;
’Tis win­ter all with me, and I
Have nei­ther fruit nor flow­er.
O God, O Bro­ther, let me give
My worth­less self to Thee;
And that the years which I may live
May pure and spo­tless be.

Grant me Thy­self, O Sav­ior kind,
The Spi­rit un­de­filed,
That I may be in heart and mind
As gen­tle as a child;
That I may tread life’s ar­du­ous ways
As Thou Thy­self hast trod,
And in the might of pray­er and praise
Keep ev­er close to God.

Light of the ev­er­last­ing morn,
Deep through my spi­rit shine;
There let Thy pre­sence new­ly born
Make all my be­ing Thine:
There try me as the sil­ver, try,
And cleanse my soul with care,
Till Thou art able to des­cry
Thy fault­less im­age there.