Like Silver Lamps in a Distant Shrine

Like sil­ver lamps in a dist­ant shrine

The stars are spark­ling bright;

The bells of the ci­ty of God ring out

For the Son of Ma­ry is born to­night.

The gloom is past

and the morn at last

Is coming with ori­ent light.

No earth­ly songs are half so sweet

As those which are fill­ing the skies

And nev­er a pal­ace shone half so fair

As the man­ger-bed where our Sav­ior lies;

No night in the year is half so dear

As this which has end­ed our sighs.

Now a new pow­er has come on the earth

A match for the ar­mies of hell:

A Child is born who shall con­quer the foe

And all the spir­its of wick­ed­ness quell;

For Ma­ry’s Son is the Migh­ty One

Whom the prop­hets of God fore­tell.

The stars of heav­en still shine as at first

They gleamed on this won­der­ful night

The bells of the ci­ty of God peal out

And the an­gels’ song still rings in the height

And loves still turns where the God­head burns

Veiled in flesh from flesh­ly sight.

Faith sees no long­er the sta­ble floor

The pave­ment of sap­phire is there

The clear light of Heav­en streams out to the world

And the an­gels of God are crowd­ing the air

And Heav­en and earth

through the spot­less birth

Are at peace on this night so fair.