The Princely City Passing By

The prince­ly ci­ty pass­ing by

The Ma­gi turn to greet

The goal of all their toil­some march

In Beth­le­hem’s low­ly street;

And while

from ma­ny tune­ful lips

Spontaneous an­thems rise

Triumphant faith takes wings of hope

And wafts them to the skies.

Transporting joy

when once again

The star that they had lost

With heav’n­ly light and pro­mise bright

Their ea­ger path­way crossed;

Nor stayed its ra­di­ant course un­til

It took its gold­en rest

Above the place where Je­sus lay

Upon His mo­ther’s breast.

No glint is here of iv­ory

No blaze of bur­nished gold;

No pur­ple robes the in­fant limbs

In gorg­eous hues en­fold:

His pal­ace is a sta­ble rude

His throne a man­ger wild

And rai­ment rough in web and woof

The pur­ple of that Child.

Let pomp and splen­dor oth­er kings

Luxuriously ad­orn;

For bet­ter proves He thus His reign

Supreme the Babe new born:

In pea­sant garb and cul­ture mean

He sways the realms of thought;

And ’neath the scep­ter of His will

The hearts of men are brought.

Beside the cra­dle where He sleeps

They wor­ship on their knees;

And in the Child the eye of faith

The pre­sent God­head sees;

Let us

their off­spring in the faith

Adore the In­fant here;

And of­fer Him our best of gifts

Hearts filled with sac­red fear.

Let chaste and ar­dent love sup­ply

The gold of east­ern kings

And bo­dies pen­ance-chast­ened yield

The myrrh de­vo­tion brings:

Our vows and pray­ers

like frank­in­cense

And myrrh

shall sweet­ly rise

To hail the Babe re­cum­bent here

As rule­r of the skies.

To God the Fa­ther

fount of light

Be glo­ry ev­er­more;

To God the Son

whose light and grace

Extend from shore to shore

Be eq­ual glo­ry giv­en here

And in the realms ab­ove

In nev­er end­ing songs of praise

Commensurate with love.