O bless­èd Je­sus! This
Thy lowly man­ger is
The pa­ra­dise where oft my soul would feed:
Here is the place, my Lord,
Where lies th’eter­nal Word
Clothed with our flesh, made like to us in­deed.

For He whose migh­ty sway
The winds and seas ob­ey,
Submits to serve, and stoops to those who sin;
The glo­ri­ous Son of God
Doth bear the mor­tal load
Of earth and dust, like us and all our kin.

For thus, O God su­preme,
Wilt Thou our flesh re­deem,
And rise it to Thy throne o’er ev­ery height:
Eternal Strength, here Thou
To bro­ther­hood dost bow
With tran­si­ent things that pass like mists of night.

Thy glo­ry and Thy joy
All woe and grief de­stroy;
Thou, heav’n­ly Trea­sure, dost all wealth re­store!
Thou deep and liv­ing Well!
Thou great Im­ma­nu­el
Dost con­quer sin and death for ev­er­more!

Then come, who­e’er thou art
O poor des­pond­ing heart,
Take cour­age now, let this thy fears dis­pel,
That since His Son most dear
Thy God hath giv’n thee here,
It can­not be but God doth love thee well.

How oft­en dost thou think
That thou must sure­ly sink,
That hope and com­fort are no more for thee;
Come hi­ther then and gaze
Upon this In­fant’s face,
And here the love of God in­car­nate see.

Ah now the bless­èd door
Stands op­en ev­er­more
To all the joys of this world and the next:
This Babe will be our friend,
And quick­ly make an end
Of all that faith­ful hearts long time hath vexed.

Then, earth, we care no more
To seek thy rich­est store,
If but this trea­sure will be still our own;
And he who holds it fast,
Till all this life is past,
Our Lord will crown with joy be­fore His throne.