Rather, gladly for that Name
Bear the cross, endure the shame :
Joyfully for Him to die
Is not death, but victory.
How lovely in the Eastern sky
Shines forth the herald from on high!
And, oh, how glad the news from heaven,
The King is born, the Son is given.
Behold the long predicted sign,
The star of Jacob's ancient line!
The eastern sages hail its rays,
And raptur'd stand in anxious gaze.
And soon within their hearts there shine
Rays fairer still and more divine,
Which gently summon them to rise,
And trust the guidance of the skies.
When God commands, the wise obey,
Love sees no danger in the way;
Home, neighbours, friends, their steps recall,
The voice of God outweighs them all.
Oh! while the star of heavenly grace
Invites us, Lord, to seek Thy face;
May we no more that grace repel,
Nor quench the light which shines so well.
HAIL the day, when in the sky
Shone the day-spring from on high:
When the star from heaven display'd
Where the Holy Child was laid.
Onward moving, that bright flame
Did the Savior's birth proclaim;
And the Gentiles came to bring
Off'rings to their Infant King.
Lord of heaven! O may Thy light
Shine upon our darken'd sight,
Till it guide us to the rest
Where Thy people shall be blest.
May it light us on the road,
Leading to the throne of God;
And our off'ring then shall be
Hearts devoted, Lord, to Thee.
Lo, the Gentiles bend the knee,
Sun of righteousness, to Thee;
Farthest realms of distant kings
Own the healing of Thy wings.
Nations all, remote and near,
Haste to see your God appear;
Haste, for Him your hearts prepare,
Meet Him manifested there.
Hail the day-spring from on high,
Pouring light on mortal eye;
See it chase the shades away,
Breaking into perfect day.
Sing, ye morning stars, again,
God descends on earth to reign;
Praise and blessing never cease:
Hail the reign of truth and peace!
JESUS shall reign where'er the sun
Doth his successive journeys run;
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till suns shall rise and set no more.
To Him shall fervent prayer be made,
To Him by princes honor paid;
To His blest Name shall incense rise,
In every morning's sacrifice.
People and realms of every tongue
Shall hail His love with sweetest song;
And infant voices shall proclaim
Their early blessings on His Name.
Blessings abound where'er He reigns,
With joy the captive bursts his chains,
The weary find eternal rest,
And all the sons of want are blest.
Lo! God is here; let us adore,
And own how dreadful is this place;
Let all within us feel His power,
And humbly bow before His face:
Ye, who His holy Name confess,
Serve Him with fear in righteousness.
Lo! God is here; Him day and night
In solemn choir the angels sing;
To Him, enthron'd above all height,
With sacred joy their praises bring:
Disdain not, Lord, our meaner song,
Who praise Thee with a falt'ring tongue.
Eternal Being! may our praise
Thy courts with grateful fragrance fill; Still may we stand before Thy face; Still hear and do Thy sovereign will: To Thee may all our thoughts arise, And prove accepted sacrifice.
To God the Father in the height
Surrounded by the heavenly host,
And to the Son, true Light of Light,
Together with the Holy Ghost,
All praise, all power, all glory be,
Thro' all the long eternity.
IN duty and in suff'ring too,
Lord, we Thy steps would trace;
As Thou hast done, so would we do,
Depending on Thy grace.
With earnest zeal 'twas Thy delight
To do Thy Father's will:
may that zeal our souls excite, Thy precepts to fulfill !
As one with Thee, may holy love
Thro' all our conduct shine!
And thus our lives shall ever prove
That we, O Lord, are Thine.
Supported by Almighty grace,
We'll tread the heavenly road,
And still Thy sacred footsteps trace,
And rise to Thine abode.
FROM Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,
Tho' every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone.
Can we, whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Can we, to men benighted,
The lamp of light deny?
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