O, World I would love to write a letter to Jesus in His crib, but it seems in all His goodness, He writes to me instead. My thoughts would ne'er suffice Him, O Babe, so mild and sweet! His very thoughts,they come to me as I lay them at His feet. O Mild, O meek, O lovely, the angels cluster 'round and yet how we neglect Him this Babe in manger found. No mother has an infant so oft' forlorn as He How can we look upon Him and not our harshness see? O, world when will you waken, O, crowd, kneel to the Lamb For He is Christ our Savior, this Babe of Bethlehem! copyright: 2008 Stepahnie Rowe | |||||
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