Hail the blest morn, see the great Mediator,
Down from the regions of glory descend;
Shepherds go worship the babe in the manger,
Lo for His guard, the bright angels attend;
Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid,
Star in the East the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer was laid.
Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shining;
Low lies His bed with the beasts of the stall.
Angels adore Him in slumbers reclining,
Wise men and shepherds before Him do fall.
Vainly we offer each ample oblation,
Vainly with gold we His favor secure;
Richer by far is the heart’s adoration;
Dearer to God are the pray’rs of the poor.