O Babe! in Manger Lying

O Babe! in man­ger ly­ing

O Child most fair to see

The first fruits of the Gen­tiles

By star were led to Thee;

We now with joy­ful wor­ship

Do haste to Beth­l’hem town

To greet Thee with Thy mo­ther

(3)

And hum­bly there fall down.

Full sweet the mer­ry chant­ing

The an­gel choirs do make

With such for march­ing mu­sic

Who would not tra­vel take?

Though wind be sharp and pierc­ing

And snow lie deep to­night

Much cheer and good awaits us

(3)

And love shall warm us quite.

A good­ly band we ga­ther

And some are sick and sad

While oth­ers are right mer­ry

And sing

they be so glad;

But this dear Child

all sor­row

Will kind­ly take away

And crown the joy­ful-heart­ed

(3)

With bliss that lasts for aye.

The star o’er­head burns bright­ly

And we go on apace;

And pre­sent­ly

are spy­ing

A mean and shame­ful place;

There come

we make low knock­ing

The shep­herds ope the door

And straigh­tway Christ our Sav­ior

(3)

We wor­ship and im­plore.

Sweet Babe! most con­des­cend­ing

O by Thy spot­less birth

Let light arise in dar­kness

And peace come to the earth;

Rest for the hea­vy-lad­en

And joy for those who weep

In Beth­le­hem of Jew­ry

(3)

Our God doth al­ways keep.