Topsham, Devon
EX3 0QH
Tel: 01392 878 200
Email: info@dartsfarm.co.uk
Topsham, Devon
EX3 0QH
Tel: 01392 878 200
Email: info@dartsfarm.co.uk
Once in royal David’s city
stood a lowly cattle shed,
where a mother laid her baby
in a manger for his bed;
Mary was that mother mild,
Jesus Christ, her little child.
He came down to earth from heaven,
who is God and Lord of all,
and his shelter was a stable,
and his cradle was a stall:
with the poor, and mean, and lowly,
lived on earth our saviour holy.
And, through all his wondrous childhood,
he would honour and obey,
love and watch the lowly maiden,
in whose gentle arms he lay:
Christian children all must be
mild, obedient, good as he.
And our eyes at last shall see him,
through his own redeeming love,
for that child so dear and gentle
is our Lord in heaven above,
and he leads his children on
to the place where he is gone.
It came upon the midnight clear,
that glorious song of old,
from angels bending near the earth
to touch their harps of gold:
“Peace on the earth, goodwill to men
from heaven’s all-gracious King.”
The world in solemn stillness lay,
to hear the angels sing.
With sorrow brought by sin and strife
the world has suffered long,
and, since the angels sang, have passed
two thousand years of wrong;
for man at war with man hears not
the love-song which they bring:
O hush the noise, you men of strife,
and hear the angels sing!
And those whose journey now is hard,
whose hope is burning low,
who tread the rocky path of life
with painful steps and slow:
O listen to the news of love
which makes the heavens ring!
O rest beside the weary road
and hear the angels sing!
And still the days are hastening on –
by prophet seen of old –
towards the fulness of the time
when comes the age foretold:
then earth and heaven renewed shall see
the Prince of Peace, their king;
and all the world repeat the song
which now the angels sing
O little town of Bethlehem,
how still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
the silent stars go by;
yet in thy dark streets shineth
the everlasting light;
the hopes and fears of all the years
are met in thee tonight.
For Christ is born of Mary,
and, gathered all above,
while mortals sleep, the angels keep
their watch of wondering love.
O morning stars, together
proclaim the holy birth!
And praises sing to God the King,
and peace to men on earth.
How silently, how silently,
the wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
the blessings of his heaven.
No ear may hear his coming,
but in this world of sin,
where meek souls will receive him still,
the dear Christ enters in.
O holy Child of Bethlehem!
Descend to us, we pray;
cast out our sin, and enter in,
be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels
the great glad tidings tell;
oh, come to us, abide with us,
our Lord Emmanuel.
While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
all seated on the ground;
the angel of the Lord came down,
and glory shone around.
“Fear not!” said he, for mighty dread
had seized their troubled mind.
“Glad tidings of great joy I bring
to you and all mankind.”
“To you, in David’s town, this day
is born of David’s line
a saviour, who is Christ the Lord,
and this shall be the sign:”
“The heavenly babe you there shall find
to human view displayed,
and meanly wrapped in swathing bands,
and in a manger laid.”
Thus spake the seraph and forthwith
appeared a shining throng
of angels praising God on high,
who thus addressed their song:
“All glory be to God on high,
and to the earth be peace;
goodwill henceforth from heaven to earth
begin and never cease!”
We three kings of Orient are;
bearing gifts we traverse afar,
field and fountain, moor and
mountain,
following yonder star.
O star of wonder, star of light,
star with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding,
guide us to thy perfect light.
Born a King on Bethlehem’s plain,
gold I bring to crown him again,
King forever, ceasing never,
over us all to reign.
O star of wonder, star of light,
star with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding,
guide us to thy perfect light.
Frankincense to offer have I;
incense owns a deity nigh;
prayer and praising, voices raising,
worshipping God on high.
O star of wonder, star of light,
star with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding,
guide us to thy perfect light.
Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume
breathes a life of gathering gloom;
sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
sealed in the stone-cold tomb.
O star of wonder, star of light,
star with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding,
guide us to thy perfect light.
Glorious now behold Him arise;
King and God and sacrifice:
alleluia, alleluia,
sounds through the earth and skies.
O star of wonder, star of light,
star with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding,
guide us to thy perfect light.
O come, all ye faithful,
joyful and triumphant!
O come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem;
come and behold him
born the King of angels:
O come, let us adore him,
O come, let us adore him,
O come, let us adore him,
Christ the Lord!
God of God, light of light, Lo, he abhors not the virgin’s womb; Very God, begotten, not created:
O come, let us adore him,
O come, let us adore him,
O come, let us adore him,
Christ the Lord!
Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation, sing, all ye citizens of heaven above! “Glory to God, glory in the highest”:
O come, let us adore him,
O come, let us adore him,
O come, let us adore him,
Christ the Lord!
Hark! the herald-angels sing,
“Glory to the new-born king!
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled.
” Joyful, all you nations rise,
join the triumph of the skies;
with the angelic host proclaim,
“Christ is born in Bethlehem!”
Hark! the herald-angels sing,
“Glory to the new-born king!”
Christ by highest heaven adored,
Christ, the everlasting Lord,
late in time behold him come,
offspring of a virgin’s womb!
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see!
Hail, the incarnate deity!
Pleased as man with man to dwell,
Jesus, our Immanuel.
Hark! the herald-angels sing,
“Glory to the new-born king!”
Hail, the heaven-born Prince of peace!
Hail, the Sun of righteousness!
Light and life to all he brings,
risen with healing in his wings.
Mild he lays his glory by,
born that man no more may die;
born to raise the sons of earth,
born to give them second birth.
Hark! the herald-angels sing,
“Glory to the new-born king!”
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