Brightest and best of the sons of the morning
Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid,
Star of the East, the horizon adoring,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shinning
Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall
Angels Adore Him in slumber reclining
Maker and Monarch and Savior of all!
Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odors of Edom and offerings divine?
Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine?
Vainly we offer each ample oblation,
Vainly with gifts would His favor secure;
Richer by far is the heart’s adoration,
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.
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