A vir­gin did come
From low­li­est home,
And shel­ter she fain
In a man­ger would find;
For full was the inn,
And no room was with­in,
Save where to the stalls
The mute ox­en they bind.

Refrain

O how won­drous the love
And the deep hu­mi­li­ty
Of Him who was laid
In the man­ger for me.

That Babe was a king,
Mystic gifts, lo, they bring,
Sure toke­ns they were
Of some great one to be;
To Beth­le­hem led,
Eastern sag­es have sped
From far the De­sire
Of all na­tions to see.

Refrain

Accomplished their hope,
Their trea­sures they ope—
Gold, frank­in­cense, myrrh,
To that In­fant they brought,
Gifts cost­ly and rare,
Full of mean­ing they were,
Though not yet un­veiled
Were the great truths they taught.

Refrain

No to­kens of state
Round that roy­al Babe wait,
Seemed least, and yet
Greatest, of mon­archs was He;
In rev­er­ence low,
Princely Ma­gi did bow,
As though they di­vined
All His true dig­ni­ty.

Refrain