Lo, Christ comes ev­en to the least,
For each the an­gels glad­ly sing;
His star hangs ev­er in the east,
And each His trib­ute still may bring.

Life’s com­mon ways ex­alt­ed are,
Life’s com­mon work is made sub­lime
By light which falls from Christ­mas star,
And me­lo­dy of Christ­mas chime.

The Lord is here, not far away;
He comes to bide from realms ab­ove;
And life is one long Christ­mas Day
That binds us to im­mor­tal love.