Cradled all lowly, behold the Savior Child! A Being holy, in dwelling rude and wild; ne'er yet was regal state of monarch proud and great, who grasped a nation's fate, so glorious as the manger-bed of Bethlehem. No longer sorrow as without hope, O earth! A brighter morrow dawned with that Infant's birth. Our sins were great and sore, but these the Savior bore, and God was wroth no more: his own Son was the Child that lay in Bethlehem. Babe weak and wailing, in lowly village stall, thy glory veiling, thou cam'st to die for all. The sacrifice is done, the world's atonement won, till time its course hath run, O Jesus, Savior, Morning Star of Bethlehem.
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