The Angels Sing Around the Stall

The an­gels sing around the stall

Where Je­sus cra­dled lies;

The shep­herds hear the joy­ful call

That wakes the si­lent skies.

Hark! to the mu­sic float­ing by

Ere yet its ech­oes cease!

Poured forth from an­gels’ min­strel­sy

Is heard the song of peace.

The east­ern kings the star have seen

They hast­en on their way;

Long time they’ve watched and wait­ing been

The dawn­ing of that day;

The dawn­ing of the day of grace

The gleam of Ja­cob’s star

The vir­gin’s child of Jes­se’s race

Whom prop­hets saw afar.

And now they op­en trea­sures rare

Which In­di­an silks en­fold;

Of myrrh

which sweet­ly scents the air

Of frank­in­cense and gold.

Their king­ly heads they meek­ly bow

The cra­dled Babe be­fore;

Their God con­fess

and kneel­ing low

In hum­ble faith ad­ore.

With them I come to greet my king

Yet not with them to part;

No gold

no frank­in­cense

I bring

I offer Him my heart.

With Him to live

with Him to die

Who by His low­ly birth

Gave glo­ry to our God on high

And peace to men on earth.