Lo, here an­oth­er Christ­mas dawns,
A glad­some, mer­ry day;
When ev­ery sort of earth­ly care
May well be put away;
And thoughts of men be back­ward turned
Unto that bless­èd morn
On which, in low­ly Beth­le­hem,
The Sav­ior, Christ, was born.

Refrain

Hail, bless­èd Babe of Beth­le­hem!
Our gifts of praise we bring;
We hail Thee as the Christ of God,
Our pro­phet, priest, and king!
The pow­er re­ceived we own,
For fu­ture grace we pray;
And sing of Thee with joy­ful hearts,
This glad­some Christ­mas day.

What won­der if the an­gels’ songs
Shook those Ju­de­an hills,
Or if the ve­ry trees cried out,
And laughed the gurg­ling rills?
For hope had kissed the fall­en world,
Of life and glo­ry shorn;
And He, Mes­si­ah, pro­mised long,
Had come, for Christ was born.

Refrain

The beau­ty of the east­ern morn
That ush­ered in that day,
But ty­pi­fied His glo­ry, who
Within that man­ger lay;
Well might the wise men, wor­ship­ping,
With gifts their faith aver,
They of­fered to a God their gold,
Their frank­in­cense and myrrh.

Refrain

What man so blind as not to see
The gifts which in Him shine?
What man so sac­ri­le­gious as
To call Him not di­vine?
What man so fear­less of his fate,
As not to trust His grace,
Who deigned, a right­eous God, to come
And take the sin­ner’s place?

Refrain