Come, Ye Lofty

Come

ye lof­ty

come

ye low­ly

Let your songs of glad­ness ring;

In a sta­ble lies the Ho­ly

In a man­ger rests the King:

See in Ma­ry’s arms re­pos­ing

Christ by high­est Heav’n adored:

Come

your cir­cle round Him clos­ing

Pious hearts that love the Lord.

Come ye poor

no pomp of sta­tion

Robes the Child your hearts ad­ore;

He

the Lord of all sal­va­tion

Shares your want

is weak and poor:

Oxen

round about be­hold them;

Rafters nak­ed

cold

and bare

See the shep­herds

God has told them

That the Prince of Life lies there.

Come

ye child­ren

blithe and mer­ry

This one Child your mo­del make;

Christmas hol­ly

leaf

and ber­ry

All be prized for His dear sake:

Come ye gen­tle hearts and ten­der

Come ye spir­its keen and bold;

All in all your hom­age ren­der

Weak and migh­ty

young and old.

High ab­ove a star is shin­ing

And the wise men haste from far:

Come

glad hearts

and spir­its pin­ing—

For you all has ris’n the star.

Let us bring our poor obla­tions

Thanks and love

and faith and praise;

Come

ye peo­ple

come

ye na­tions

All in all draw nigh to gaze.

Hark the Heav’n of heav’ns is ring­ing:

Christ the Lord to man is born!

Are not all our hearts

too

sing­ing

Welcome

wel­come

Christ­mas morn?

Still the Child

all pow­er pos­sess­ing

Smiles as through the ag­es past;

And the song of Christ­mas bless­ing

Sweetly sinks to rest at last.