Cradled all low­ly,
Behold the Sav­ior Child!
A be­ing ho­ly,
In dwell­ing rude and wild;
Ne’er yet was re­gal state
Of mon­arch proud and great,
Who grasped a na­tion’s fate,
So glo­ri­ous as the man­ger bed
Of Beth­le­hem.

No long­er sor­row
As with­out hope, O earth!
A bright­er mor­row
Dawned with that In­fant’s birth.
Our sins were great and sore,
But these the Sav­ior bore,
And God was wroth no more;
His own Son was the Child that lay
In Beth­le­hem.

Babe weak and wail­ing,
In lowly vil­lage stall,
Thy glo­ry veil­ing,
Thou cam’st to die for all.
The sac­ri­fice is done,
The world’s atone­ment won,
Till time its course hath run,
O Je­sus, Sav­ior, Morn­ing Star
Of Beth­le­hem.