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.

Recordings 1 2