Why, Her­od, why the God­head fear,
When told Ju­dea’s king was near?
Not earth­ly crowns away to bear
He came, but heav’n­ly to con­fer.

Led by the star, which ruled their sight,
To seek and find the Lord of Light,
The Ma­gi spread their gifts abroad,
And pros­trate own the pre­sent God.

The pre­sent God the heav’ns pro­claim,
When to the lav­er pure He came,
The spot­less Lamb; and on Him bore
Our sins, who knew not sin be­fore.

The God the blush­ing wa­ters own
By migh­ty sign, un­heard, un­known;
When the pure spring, poured forth in wine,
Confessed the pre­sent pow­er divine.

Now unt­o Him, th’in­car­nate Son,
Whose glo­ry to the world was shown,
With God the Fa­ther glo­ry be,
And, ho­ly Com­fort­er, with Thee!