O Savior, Whom this holy morn Gave to our world below; To mortal want and labor born, And more than mortal woe. Incarnate Word! by every grief, By each temptation tried, Who lived to yield our ills relief, And to redeem us died! If gaily clothed and proudly fed In dangerous wealth we dwell, Remind us of Thy manger bed And lowly cottage cell. If pressed by poverty severe In anxious want we pine, O may Thy Spirit whisper near How poor a lot was Thine! Through this life's ever varying scene From sin preserve us free; Like us Thou hast a mourner been, May we rejoice with Thee!
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