When the stars of morning sang
      Long ago,
Sweet the air with music rang
      Through the snow,
There beside the mother mild
Slept the blessed Christmas child,—
Slumber holy, undefiled—
      Here below.

When the wise men traveled far
      Through the night,
Following the guiding star
      Pure and bright,
Lo! it stood above the place
Sanctified by Heaven's grace,
And upon the Christ-Child’s face
      Shed its light.

When the world lay hushed and still
      Christmas morn,
Suddenly were skies athrill—
      "Christ is born!"
Angel voices, high and clear,
Chanted tidings of good cheer,
"See, the Infant King is here,
      Christ is born!"