Let Myriad Chords This Day Be Strung

Let my­ri­ad chords this day be strung

Within the beat­ing hearts of men

Till peal on peal from ev­ery tongue

Again re-ec­ho­ing and again

Shall far and near the news pro­claim

That Christ is born in Beth­le­hem.

No pomp of pow­er

no pride of place

No gorg­eous ban­ner was un­furled

When He

the Lord of life and grace

Descended on a hard­ened world;

And Sa­tan stood with fold­ed wings

And

cow­er­ing

owned Him King of kings.

The heath­en gods were si­lent then

No voice was heard from wood or stone

Their glo­ry had de­part­ed—when

The Lord of Glo­ry left His throne

And in a low­ly man­ger lay

The Day-star of eter­nal day.

Dark su­per­sti­tion

scowl­ing

fled;

A blight up­on her par­ent stem

Had fall­en

when in won­der led

The star stood ov­er Beth­le­hem

And ho­ly an­gels

ho­ver­ing there

Sang prais­es in the mid­night air.

Yes! an­gels sang their song of old

Yet man

for whom He came

was dumb;

They ate

they drank

they bought

they sold

And knew not that their Lord was come

For them to live

for them to die

A pledge to them of vic­to­ry.

Long years have rolled since that bright day

And through the world His love has rung

But be not we as blind as they

Or leave His prais­es all un­sung:

The heav’ns pro­claim that Christ is come

Shall we on earth alone be dumb?

No! let each and ev­ery heart

Awake

and sing this joy­ous morn

And with the an­gels bear­ing part

Proclaim their great Re­deem­er born

And strive a guilt­less life to bring

As trib­ute to their heav’n­ly king.