When the stars of morning sang
  Long ago,
Sweet the air with music rang
  Through the snow,
There beside the mother mild
Slept the blessed Christmas child,—
Slumber holy, undefiled—
  Here below.

When the wise men traveled far
  Through the night,
Following the guiding star
  Pure and bright,
Lo! it stood above the place
Sanctified by Heaven's grace,
And upon the Christ-Child’s face
  Shed its light.

When the world lay hushed and still
  Christmas morn,
Suddenly were skies athrill—
  "Christ is born!"
Angel voices, high and clear,
Chanted tidings of good cheer,
"See, the Infant King is here,
  Christ is born!"