Christians, Carol Sweetly, Up Today And Sing!
‘Tis The Happy Birthday Of Our Holy King:
Haste We Then To Greet Him, Humbly Falling Down,
While Our Hands Entwine Him, Dearest Babe, A Crown.
Crowds Of Snow-White Angels Throng The Golden Stair;
All Things Are Delightful, All Things Passing Fair;
Bells, Clear Music Making, Peal The News To Earth;
Chimes Within Make Answer, All Is Glee And Mirth.
Michael, At The Manger, Bows His Royal Face;
Gabriel, With Lily, Hides Transcendent Grace:
For, Dear Friends, The Glory Of That Lowly Bed
Overpowers The Beauty On Archangels Shed.
Shall I Tell Of Joseph, Who, With Rapt Surprise,
Sees The Light From Godhead Fill Those Infant Eyes?
Shall I Sing Of Mary, Who, Upon Her Breast,
Cradles Her Creator, Soothes Him To His Rest?
Angels, Mary, Joseph, Yes, I Greet You All!
Falling Down In Worship At The Manger Stall!
For You Hail Our Monarch, Born A Child Today;
So With You I Worship And My Homage Pay.
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