A King Might Miss the Guiding Star

A king might miss the guid­ing star

A wise man’s foot might stum­ble;

For Beth­le­hem is ve­ry far

From all ex­cept the hum­ble.

’Tis Christ­mas Day! ’Tis Christ­mas Day!

And Christ­ian hearts are hum­ble.

Some pil­grims seek a hal­lowed shrine;

Some sol­diers march to dan­ger;

Some tra­vel­ers seek an inn—its sign

The Ba­by in a man­ger.

When Christ was born on Christ­mas morn

They laid Him in a man­ger.

There is no pal­ace in that place

Nor any seat of learn­ing

No hill­top vi­sion of God’s face

No al­tar can­dles burn­ing:

O come and see our Christ­mas tree

And Christ­mas can­dles burn­ing.

But he who gets to Beth­le­hem

Shall hear the ox­en low­ing;

And

if he hum­bly kneel with them

May catch far trum­pets blow­ing;

From far away

on Christ­mas Day

May hear God’s trum­pets blow­ing.