The Stable at Bethlehem

Would we learn to give thanks

let us turn to the scene

Which the Scrip­ture this morn­ing un­folds to our view;

For what­ev­er at Beth­l’hem was pain­ful and mean

O

be­lieve me

my friends

it was suf­fered for you.

’Tis the time of the tax­ing

and crowds flock around;

To the vil­lage of Beth­l’hem their jour­ney hath been;

But for yon low­ly vir­gin and Child there is found

No home in the vil­lage

no room in the inn.

All the ox­en are rest­ing at ease

as they fold

Beneath them for com­fort each warm co­vered limb;

But the Child in the sta­ble is pinched with the cold

More warmth and more com­fort are want­ed for Him.

’Tis the first of His sor­rows: re­ject­ed

dis­tressed

With a man­ger His cra­dle

and hay for His bed

While the herds are in stall

and the birds in their nest

There’s no home for the Sav­ior

no rest for His head.

In the sta­ble ’tis lone; but re­joic­ing is nigh;

For e’en now do the lips of the shep­herds de­clare

How their night-watch was brok­en with light from on high

When the song of the an­gels was sweet in the air;

Singing

Glo­ry to God

and good-will up­on earth!

In that hymn let be­liev­ers

with heart and with voice

Exulting unite

on Im­ma­nu­el’s birth

And

like an­gels at Beth­l’hem

be glad and re­joice.

In the sta­ble ’tis dark; but above is the star

Which hath guid­ed

through rug­ged and dan­ger­ous ways

The wise and the great from their dwell­ings afar

To pay hon­or and gifts to the In­fant of Days.

He shall live to re­deem; and to Him shall be giv’n

A name that is great. Through His mer­its alone

Prayer and praise shall as­cend

as the in­cense

to Heav’n;

And all hearts up­on earth His do­min­ion shall own.