While our hands entwine Him, dearest Babe, a crown.
2
Crowds of snow-white angels throng the golden stair;
All things are delightful, all things passing fair;
Bells, clear music making, peal the news to earth;
Chimes within make answer, all is glee and mirth.
3
Michael, at the manger, bows his royal face;
Gabriel, with lily, hides transcendent grace:
For, dear friends, the glory of that lowly bed
Overpowers the beauty on archangels shed.
4
Shall I tell of Joseph, who, with rapt surprise,
Sees the light from Godhead fill those infant eyes?
Shall I sing of Mary, who, upon her breast,
Cradles her Creator, soothes Him to His rest?
5
Angels, Mary, Joseph, yes, I greet you all!
Falling down in worship at the manger stall!
For you hail our Monarch, born a Child today;
So with you I worship and my homage pay.
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