O Savior, Whom this holy morn
Gave to our world below;
To mortal want and labor born,
And more than mortal woe.
Incarnate Word!
by every grief,
By each temptation tried,
Who lived to yield our ills relief,
And to redeem us died!
If gaily clothed and proudly fed
In dangerous wealth we dwell,
Remind us of Thy manger bed
And lowly cottage cell.
If pressed by poverty severe
In anxious want we pine,
O may Thy Spirit whisper near
How poor a lot was Thine!
Through this life’s ever varying scene
From sin preserve us free;
Like us Thou hast a mourner been,
May we rejoice with Thee!
