The Gift Divine

In the low­ly man­ger

poor and bare

Lies a lit­tle child

Sent from heav’n­ly realms of glo­ry fair

Pure and un­de­filed.

Sent to live with men in low­ly guise

All our ills to bear

That at length with Him

ab­ove the skies

We His crown may wear.

Herald angels sing His greet­ing

Mortal lips the strain re­peat­ing

While His star

with ra­di­ant splen­dor

Like a be­acon seems to shine.

Earth and Heav’n

to­day re­joic­ing

Now unite their prais­es voic­ing

In a song of glad thanks­giv­ing

For the gift di­vine.

All our sin and sor­row He will know

All our pain and grief

In our very foot­steps He will go

Bringing glad re­lief

Showing us the straight and nar­row way

That will lead ab­ove

Bringing us to that bright end­less day

In His world of love.

Blessèd lit­tle Child in man­ger low

Holy

un­crowned King

Homage to Thy name we here be­stow

While Thy prais­es ring

Heaven’s price­less gift of love Thou art

Whom the saints ad­ore

Thou alone shalt rule in ev­ery heart

Now and ev­er­more.