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 attends.
Chorus.
Brighest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and led us thine aid,
Star in the east, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer was laid.
Cold on his cradle the dew drops 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.
Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion,
Odors of Eden, and offerings divine,
Gems from the mountains, and pearls from the ocean;
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine.
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
