Brightest and Best of the Sons of the Morning

Brightest and best of the sons of the morn­ing

Dawn on our dark­ness and lend us Thine aid;

Star of the East

the ho­ri­zon adorn­ing

Guide where our in­fant Re­deem­er is laid.

Cold on His cra­dle the dew­drops are shin­ing;

Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;

Angels adore Him in slum­ber re­clin­ing

Maker and Mon­arch and Sav­ior of all!

Say

shall we yield Him

in cost­ly de­vo­tion

Odors of Ed­om and of­fer­ings di­vine?

Gems of the mount­ain and pearls of the ocean

Myrrh from the for­est

or gold from the mine?

Vainly we of­fer each am­ple obla­tion

Vainly with gifts would His fa­vor se­cure;

Richer by far is the heart’s ad­or­ation

Dearer to God are the pray­ers of the poor.

Hail the blest morn when the great Me­di­at­or

Down from the re­gions of glo­ry des­cends.

Shepherds

go wor­ship the Babe in the man­ger;

Lo! for His guard the bright an­gels at­tend.