1 O sight of anguish! view it near,
What weeping innocence is here,
A manger for his bed?
The brutes yield refuge to his woe;
Men, the worst brutes, no pity show,
Nor give him friendly aid.
2 Why do no rapid thunders roll?
Why do no tempests rock the pole?
O miracle of grace!
Or, why no angel on the wing,
Warm for the honours of their King,
T'extirpate all the race?
3 Did he, that infant bath'd in tears,
Call into form the rolling spheres?
Did seraphs wait his nod?
Helpless he calls— but man delays:
And mortal chaos disobeys
The offspring of a God.
4 Say, radiant seraphs thron'd in light,
Did love e'er tow'r so high a flight?
Or glory sink so low?
This wonder angels scarce declare,
Angels the rapture scarce can bear,
Or equal thanks bestow.
5 Redemption! 'tis a boundless theme!
Thou boundless mind, our hearts inflame
With ardour from above:
Words are but faint— let joy express;
Vain is mere joy— Men, Angels bless
This prodigy of love.
|First Line:||O sight of anguish, view it near|
|Title:||The Salvation of God revealed|
|Topic:||The Nativity of the Savior, Celebrated by Angels and Men|