I Come from th’Lofty Heav’ns Today

“I come from th’lof­ty heav’ns to­day;

I bring a new me­lo­di­ous lay;

A rich me­lo­di­ous lay I bring

And this the tale I tell

I sing:

“Lo! from a chos­en maid this morn

A love­ly babe for you is born;

That Babe

so soft

so mild

shall be

Your joy

your sweet fe­li­ci­ty.

“He is the Lord

our God on high!

His boun­ty shall your need sup­ply

His own heart’s blood your ran­som pay

And wash each stain of guilt away.

“He brings you all the bliss pro­found

His Fa­ther

God

dif­fus­es round

That with us now and ev­er­more

Ye may the realms of light ex­plore.

“How mark the sign with fond de­sire

The man­ger and the mean at­tire;

Lo! there you find the In­fant lain

Whose hands the uni­verse sus­tain.

Come all

and let us joy­ful be;

Come with the shep­herds in and see

What God’s un­bound­ed love has done

To bless us with His own dear Son.

Attend

my heart! be­hold yon shed!

Who fills that rude

that low­ly bed?

What babe is that

so sweet

so fair?

Jesus

the love­ly Babe

is there!

Welcome

il­lus­tri­ous Guest sub­lime!

Thou hast not scorned a world of crime

But come in ban­ish­ment to me:

How shall I pay my thanks to Thee?

Alas! Cre­at­or

Lord of all!

Art Thou the in­mate of a stall?

And hast Thou lain Thy love­ly head

Where me­ni­al beasts are night­ly fed?

Had this wide world far wid­er bounds

Of gems and gold a rich com­pound

It were too poor

too small to be

A nar­row cra­dle bed for Thee.

The swath­ing-band

the bri­ary hay

Thy pur­ple these

Thy silk ar­ray;

On these

great Mon­arch! Thou canst shine

Rich as up­on Thy throne di­vine.

Thus wouldst Thou teach my soul to see

This worth­less world’s re­al­ity;

How pow­er and fame

and for­tune’s store

Beneath Thy splen­dor shine no more.

O Je­sus! love­ly Babe di­vine!

Thy cra­dle be this heart of mine;

There make a pure

soft shrine for Thee

That I may ne’er for­get­ful be.

That glad­ness may for­ev­er string

My chain­less soul to leap and sing

The lus­cious tones with bliss that brim

The charm­ing songs of Su­san­nim.

Glory and praise to God su­preme!

Glad hosts of an­gels seize the theme;

With joy they peal the an­them new!

He gave His own dear Son for you!