A helpless little One;
For Whom Judea's mothers prayed;
The long expected Son.
No earthly pomp surrounds His bed,
His home no pillared hall:
They had not where to lay His head,
Save in the cattle stall.
The King of Heav'n- the Prince of Life,
Assumes a mortal frame;
He comes to enter into strife,
To weave immortal fame.
His weapons truth and righteousness;
The cause the good of all,
The helpless sons of Adam's race,
The ruined by the fall.
Hail, glorious Prince! Hail, blessed Son!
On this Thy natal day
Let love and peace untrammeled run,
O'er all the earth hold sway,
Till human passion, sin, and wrongs,
Are numbered with the past,
And earth with her ten thousand tongues,
Shall praise Thee 'First and Last.'