Jesus, our Lord, in a man­ger as born,
Ages ago on a beau­ti­ful morn;
Wise men led on by the light of a star,
Hastened to greet Him from coun­tries afar.
Coming to wor­ship Him, lo­wly and sweet,
Bringing rich pre­sents to lay at His feet,
Frankincense, myrrh, cost­ly trea­sures of gold,
Such is the beau­ti­ful sto­ry of old.

Refrain

Such is the beau­ti­ful sto­ry of old,
Story by sag­es and pro­phets fore­told;
Waken, earth’s child­ren, your hap­py re­frain,
Singing the beau­ti­ful sto­ry again.

Growing to man­hood, our Sav­ior we find,
Preaching and heal­ing the sick and the blind,
Feeding the mul­ti­tudes, walk­ing the sea,
Tempted by Sa­tan, yet no sin did He;
Doing the work of His Fa­ther, our God,
Footsore and wea­ry as on­ward He trod,
Laughed at, de­rid­ed with words harsh and cold,
This is the beau­ti­ful sto­ry of old.

Refrain

Brought be­fore Pi­late, ab­used and re­viled,
Cruelly smit­ten, His rai­ment de­filed,
Suffering sor­row, in pain and in loss,
Crownèd with thorns, and then nailed to the cross;
Shedding His blood there for you and for me,
Giving His life that man­kind might be free,
Sadly and lo tho’ the tale may be told,
Such is the sto­ry of Je­sus, of old.

Refrain