Gentle Je­sus, pure and ho­ly,
Once Thou wert a lit­tle child,
Cradled in a man­ger low­ly,
O’er it watched Thy mo­ther mild.
So while Ma­ry, bend­ing o’er Thee,
Waited for the com­ing morn,
Angels sang the joy­ous sto­ry:
Lo! The Prince of Peace is born!

High in Heav’n’s blue deep above Thee,
Rose that bright and morn­ing star;
As the wise men knelt be­fore Thee,
Bringing trea­sures from afar;
While the hap­py shep­herds fol­low­ing
Where the an­gels led the way;
At the shrine they knelt ad­or­ing,
Where the Babe in beau­ty lay.

Gentle Je­sus, pure and ho­ly,
Still the an­gels lead to Thee;
And the child­ren fol­low glad­ly
To the Child of Ga­li­lee.
Like the wise men, gifts we bring Thee,
Like the shep­herds, we adore,
Like the ang­els, songs we sing Thee,
Love and praise for­ev­er more.