The eve of Christmastime is dawned a-twinkling,

As snowdrops in that ancient morn ere brightening

Where a sweet babe whom all the world delight in

Was cradled in a tender manger nigh.

A song of unknown spheres is heard triumphant,

In the wind, and in the Soul’s discomfort

As in the nearing of a bright parade,

Marching and hearkn’ing, leading a crusade-

Awake my soul, to see the Savior glist’ning

Indeed, the Stars seem to laughing invite

To turn the gaze unto the utmost height

And heavenwards behold the Sign while listening,

To trembling of the drums responsive

And the withering of death’s frame at last

To hum of vagrant meadowlark reverb’rative

Or vibration of pure trumpeter enthusiast,

For unto us and soon, this very night,

Our God will bend and be made very low,

His suff’ring, full and vast eternal fright,

Was gain and hopeful bastion to our woe.

Oh Life of my own Life’s sorrows, beginning even now

As in infancy Your cradle humble was, no shield ‘gainst evil to bestow,

No shelter ‘gainst Night’s solitude did the Lord God embrace,

But stone of trough and wood of cross His glory did efface.

Bone of my bones and very God, how can this wonder be?

How could the Lord of stars of night and mortal flesh agree?

Let heart and soul rejoice for hither does He come,

His wondrous form of God made man, to strike us sinners dumb.