God from on high hath heard;
Let sighs and sor­rows cease;
Lo! from the op­en­ing Heav’n des­cends
To man the pro­mised Peace.

Hark! through the si­lent night
Angelic voic­es swell;
Their joy­ful songs pro­claim that God
Is born on earth to dwell.

See how the shep­herd band
Speed on with ea­ger feet;
Come to the hal­lowed cave with them
The ho­ly Babe to greet.

But, oh, what sight ap­pears
Within that low­ly door!
A man­ger, stall, and swad­dling clothes,
A child and mo­ther poor!

Art Thou the Christ? the Son?
The Fa­ther’s im­age bright?
And see we Him whose arm up­holds
Earth and the star­ry height?

Yea, faith can pierce the cloud
Which veils Thy glo­ry now;
We hail Thee, God, be­fore whose throne
The an­gels pros­trate bow.

A si­lent teach­er, Lord,
Thou bidd’st us not re­fuse
To bear what flesh would have us shun,
To shun what flesh would choose.

Our sin­ful pride to cure
With that pure love of Thine,
O be Thou born with­in our hearts,
Most ho­ly Child di­vine.