Come, long expected Savior, come!
Prophets and kings have waited long
To see Thy day and make Thee room
And greet Thy advent with a song.

Ab’ram rejoiced to see Thy day,
And seers and holy men of old
Gazed through the shadows long and gray
To see the promised age of gold.

Star of the long expected morn,
Yea, rather Earth’s eternal sun!
Thy light upon the hills is born,
Thy reign of glory is begun.

The silent skies are vocal now,
Bright angels in a chorus sing;
The Magi at the manger bow,
And homage-treasures pay their king.

The shepherds leave the sky-lit field
And tinkling folds, with wonder wild,
To see the Prince of Peace revealed,
And bow before the Shepherd Child.

Come, manger King, Thy scepter take,
Extend from sea to sea Thy sway,
The rod of the oppressor break,
And chase Earth’s gloom and wrong away.

Give Thy good tidings to the poor,
The broken hearted sinner heal;
Break open every prison door,
Rend every galling gyve of steel.

Lead forth the captive slaves of sin,
And cause the blinded eyes to see;
The reign of righteousness begin,
And give the world true liberty.

The bruised, the weak, have suffered long
Through all these sad and waiting years;
While giants of successful wrong
Have heeded not, but mocked their tears.

But Thou wilt break the tyrant’s chain,
And cause the cry of wrong to cease;
And thou wilt ease the mourner’s pain,
And give the wounded conscience peace.

The world heaves now a softer sigh,
Caressed beneath Thy piercèd palm;
Hope kindles in its tear dimmed eye,
And all its troubled thoughts grow calm.

For Thou hast walked upon our seas,
And breathed upon our outspread lands,
And so Thy breath is on the breeze,
Thy flowers adorn the desert sands.

And as Thy power and kingdom come,
And rule the land and rule the sea,
So shall the barren deserts bloom,
And Earth’s millennial glory be.

Thou manger Child, Thou infant King,
We hail Thy lowly, royal birth,
And join with heav’nly choirs to sing,
Thy advent to our waiting earth!

We open temple, heart and home,
On this Thy hallowed natal day,
And give Thy coming all our room,
And all we have to Thy kind sway.

Joel Swartz
Poems, 1901