The Christ Child

On a starry, wintry night,
Frosty and cold was the air,
And the lowly vale where Bethlehem stood,
Looked bleak, and barren and bare.

Her streets deserted and dim,
Lit only by myriads of stars,
That with shimm'ring light illumined the night,—
Among them was fiery Mars.

Adown 'mid the valley so drear
Knelt men, in wonder and fear,
For lo! in the distance a bright star had risen
Wondrously brilliant and clear.

Then an Angel's voice they heard
In heavenly tones it said,
To you I bring "glad tidings of joy,"
"Fear not nor be dismayed."

Go follow that star, 'twill lead
To the Christ-child's lowly bed,
Though Israel's King, He sleeps in an "inn"
Where the cattle oft are fed.

Then over the humble place
Where the Royal Babe was laid,
Did the "Star of the East," blest Bethlehem's star,
Irradiate no more to fade.

O! brightest and best they cried,
Our long promised Israel's King,
Shine out from afar, thou bright morning star,
To thee our offerings we bring.

Bethlehem! blest city of old
Like pilgrims to Mecca we come,
To thy hallowed site, on each Christmas night,
The Christ-child's humble home.