Night of Wonder

Night of won­der

night of glo­ry

Such as time has nev­er seen!

Theme of old pro­phet­ic sto­ry

Night all so­lemn and se­rene:

Sweetest si­lence

soft­est blue

That earth’s dark­ness ev­er knew!

Night of beau­ty

hour of glad­ness

Of all nights the first and best;

Not a cloud to speak of sad­ness

Not a star but sings of rest;

Holy mid­night

show­er­ing peace

Never shall thy ra­di­ance cease.

Happy ci­ty

dear­est

fair­est

Lonely

tran­quil

Beth­le­hem!

Least and low­li­est

rich­est

rar­est

David’s ci­ty

Ju­dah’s gem;

Out of thee there comes the light

That dis­pel­leth all our night.

In thee Heav’n and earth are meet­ing;

Lo

there comes the an­gel throng;

We give back the heav’n­ly greet­ing

Joining in the ho­ly song—

Song of fes­tiv­al and mirth

Song of morn­ing to the earth.

Now to thee thy king des­cend­eth

Laid up­on a wo­man’s knee;

To thy gates His steps He bend­eth

To the man­ger com­eth He;

David’s Lord and Da­vid’s son

This His cra­dle and His throne.

All un­con­scious of the trea­sure

That with­in thy walls there lies

Is it slum­ber

is it plea­sure

That is seal­ing up thine eyes?

Canst thou not the gran­deur see

Of that veil­èd ma­jes­ty?

All un­wit­ting of the won­der

Wrought with­in thy gates to­night

Art thou blind to Him who yon­der

Sleeps un­hon­ored—Prince of Light?

Thou thy­self the cra­dle bed

For the King of Glo­ry spread!

He

the low­li­est of the low­ly

To our taint­ed world has come;

He

the ho­li­est of the ho­ly

Cannot find a hu­man home.

All for us He has been born

All for us He bears the scorn.

Babe of weak­ness

Child of gran­deur

At Thy sto­ny crib we bow;

Not a trace of heav’n­ly splen­dor

Yet the King of an­gels Thou!

Soon by earth to be ad­ored

As cre­ation’s heir and Lord.

Light of life

Thou lie­st yon­der

Mystery of migh­ty love;

Naught from Thee our souls shall sun­der

Naught from us shall Thee re­move.

Take these hearts

and let them be

Throne and cra­dle both for Thee!

Bread of God

though yet un­brok­en

Still e’en now the liv­ing Bread;

In that man­ger

lo

the to­ken

Of the ta­ble to be spread

For us in the up­per room

When the longed for night is come.

Rose of Sha­ron

spring­ing sweet­ly

In this sac­red so­li­tude

Every gra­cious leaf­let fit­ly

Folded in this ten­der bud;

All the beau­ty yet con­cealed

All the frag­rance un­rev­ealed.

O’er Thy cra­dle we are bend­ing

Singing low our song of love

Soon to sing the song un­end­ing

In the Beth­le­hem above;

Through the ag­es gaz­ing on

Not the cra­dle

but the throne.