The happy Christmas comes once more;
The heav'nly Guest is at the door,
The blessed words the shepherds thrill,
The joyous tidings: Peace, goodwill.
To David's city let us fly,
Where angels sing beneath the sky;
Through plain and village pressing near,
And news from God with shepherds hear.
O let us go with quiet mind,
The gentle Babe with shepherds find,
To gaze on Him who gladdens them,
The loveliest flow'r on Jesse's stem.
The lowly Savior meekly lies,
Laid off the splendor of the skies;
No crown bedecks His forehead fair,
No pearl, nor gem, nor silk is there.
No human glory, might, and gold,
The lovely infant's form enfold;
The manger and the swaddlings poor
Are His, whom angels' songs adore.
O wake our hearts, in gladness sing,
And keep our Christmas with our King,
Till living song, from loving souls,
Like sound of mighty water rolls!
O holy Child, Thy manger gleams
Till earth and heav'n glow with it beams,
Till midnight hath noon's brightness won,
And Jacob's Star outshines the sun.
Thou patriarchs' joy, Thou prophets' song,
Thou heav'nly Day-spring looked for long,
Thou Son of Man, incarnate Word,
Great David's Son, great David's Lord!
Come, Jesus, glorious heav'nly Guest,
Keep Thine own Christmas in our breast;
Then David's harp-string, hushed so long,
Shall swell our jubilee of song.