Ye People, Cease from Tears

Ye peo­ple

cease from tears

Your pray­ers are heard above:

And from His throne in Heav’n ap­pears

The God of peace and love.

O’er Beth­l’em’s si­lent plains

Hark

heav’n­ly voic­es sing

Announcing in tri­umph­ant strains

The birthd­ay of our king.

The faith­ful shep­herds hear

And haste the Babe to greet:

Let us like them with joy draw near

And wor­ship at His feet.

But say—oh

strange sur­prise—

What spec­ta­cle is seen:

An in­fant in the man­ger laid

His par­ents poor and mean?

Say—do we here be­hold

The Son of God most high

Who doth with­in His hand in­fold

The earth and sea and sky?

Faith pe­ne­trates the veil

And through the cloud drawn o’er

Sees Him whom an­gels trem­bling hail

The God whom they ad­ore.

O Babe

Thy birth des­pised

And low­ly man­ger tell

To flee from all be­low that’s prized

And with the meek to dwell.

From sin­ful shame and pride

Guard us

Thou Child di­vine:

Then wilt Thou in our hearts ab­ide

Thy cra­dle and Thy shrine.