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Rh Was there nothing but a manger Hapless sinners could afford, To receive the heavenly stranger. Their Redeemer and their Lord?

See, the humble shepherds round him Gaze with mingled love and fear; Where they sought him, there they found him, With bis virgin Mother near, Lo, he slumbers in his manger, Where the horned oxen feed; Peace, my darling, here's no danger, Here no ox is near thy bed.

'Twas to save thee, child, from dying, From the ever-burning flame, Bitter groans and endless crying, That this holy Infant came. May'st thou live to know and fear him, Trust and love him all thy days, Then to dwell for ever near him, See his face, and sing his praise.

 

How poor and mean this little bed On which my Saviour lies! Yet did he the vast ocean spread, And paint the fair blue skies.

Ah, then how sweet shall be to me The lot my Lord did share, And dearer far his poverty Than treasures rich and rare! 