Sent from His Heav’nly Throne on High

Sent from His heav’n­ly throne on high

Let all the world be­neath the sky

Adore the Sav­ior new­ly come

The Prince born to­day of vir­gin womb.

He who cre­at­ed Heav­en and earth

Is cloth­èd in frame of mor­tal birth;

That flesh by flesh may be set free

Nor His own crea­tures rui­ned be.

The Word which ere time’s course be­gan

Forth from His Fa­ther’s bo­som ran

Obedient now to time and to death

A help­less In­fant draws its breath.

On straw the Al­migh­ty lays His head

Nor spurns the man­ger for His bed;

And He who all cre­ation feeds

The milk of hu­man mo­ther needs.

They guide the star­ry spheres

those hands

That now are wrapped in swath­ing bands;

All weak and weep­ing there He lies

That He may raise us to the skies.

Hope of the whole wide earth

that Child

Who calls us to His cra­dle mild

How of such love our fit­ness prove

Save by re­turn of an­swer­ing love?

All hon­or

laud and glo­ry be

O Je­sus

Ma­ry’s Son

to Thee;

To Fa­ther and the Spir­it praise

Now and through end­less length of days.