When came in flesh the in­car­nate Word,
The heed­less world slept on,
And on­ly sim­ple shep­herds heard
That God had sent His Son.

When comes the Sav­ior at the last,
From east to west shall shine
The aw­ful pomp, and earth aghast
Shall trem­ble at the sign.

Then shall the pure of heart be blest;
As mild He comes to them,
As when up­on the vir­gin’s breast
He lay at Beth­le­hem.

As mild to meek eyed love and faith,
Only more strong to save;
Strengthened by ha­ving bowed to death,
By hav­ing burst the grave.

Lord, who could dare see Thee des­cend
In state, un­less he knew
Thou art the sor­row­ing sin­ner’s friend,
The gracious and the true?

Dwell in our hearts, O Sav­ior blest;
So shall Thine ad­vent’s dawn
’Twixt us and Thee, our bo­som guest,
Be but the veil with­drawn.