Around the palms, and o'er the streams,
  And on the shepherd's head.
  Be near, through life and death,
  As in that holiest night
  Of hope, and joy, and faith—
  Oh! clear and shining light!

Behold a simple, tender Babe,
  In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies;
  Alas! a piteous sight.

The inns are full; no man will yield
  This little Pilgrim bed;
But forced he is with silly beasts
  In crib to shroud his head.

Despise him not for lying there;
  First what he is inquire:
An Orient pearl is often found
  In depth of dirty mire.

Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish,
  Nor beasts that by him feed;
Weigh not his mother's poor attire,
  Nor Joseph's simple weed.