Methinks I see an heav'nly host Of angels on the wing Methinks I hear their cheerful notes So merrily they sing:
Let all your fears be banish'd hence, Glad tidings I proclaim, For there's a Saviour born today, And Jesus is his name.
Lay down your crooks and quit your flocks, To Bethlehem repair; And let your wand'ring steps be squar'd By yonder shining star.
Seek not in courts or palaces, Nor royal curtains draw; But search the stable, see your God Extended on the straw.
Then learn from hence, ye rural Swains, The Meekness of your God, Who left the boundless Realms of Joy To Ransom you with blood.
The Master of the Inn refus'd A more commodious Place; Ungenerous Soul of Savage Mould, And destitute of Grace.
Exult ye oxen, low for joy, Ye tenants of the stall, Pay your obeisance, on your knees Unanimously fall.
The royal guest you entertain Is not of common birth, But second to the great I Am; The God of heav'n and earth.
Then suddenly a heav'nly host Around the shepherds throng, Exulting in the threefold God And thus address their song. To God the Father, Christ the Son, And Holy Ghost ador'd; The First and Last, the Last and First, Eternal praise afford.
Disclaimers: 1. Formalities: This is a personal web-log. The opinions and information provided on this page are the sole responsibility of the author. These opinions do not represent the official statements or views of his employer, nor do they represent the views of any institution, corporation, or other organization. This blog and all its contents, in each of its parts and as a whole are copyright David Knowles, Jr., 2009. 2. Frivolities: This is a personal web-log. I'm relearning some HTML. Something not working? Shout out. Idea for improvement? Please provide. Surging, irresistible need to confess your undying love for the Dave? You may proceed.
"If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."