Hail the blest morn when the great mediator, Down from the regions of glory descends; Shepherds go worship the babe in the manger, Lo! for his guard the bright angels attend. Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining; Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall; Angels adore him in slumber reclining, Maker and monarch and Savior of all! Vainly we offer each ample oblation, Vainly with gifts would his favor secure; Richer by far is the heart's adoration, Dearer to God are the pray'rs of the poor. |
