Ii

To seek the Babe of Bethlehem, We come this Christmas Day, A pilgrim band, our Promis’d Land, The Manger where He lay. No splendid robes enfold us, No regal gifts we bring, With simple faith we celebrate The birthday of our King. Oh, star divine, still shine on us, Still let thy radiance burn, Till into David’s city Our lowly footsteps turn! There, like the shepherds, wondering, We’ll worship, kneeling still; There, like the angel multitude, Our song the heavens fill, And tell the birth of peace on earth, To men of gentle will.