A Christmas Hymn
O now wondrous is the story
Of our blest Redeemer's birth?
See the mighty Lord of Glory
Leaves his heaven to visit earth!
Hear with transport, every creature,
Hear the Gospel's joyful sound;
Christ appears in human nature,
In our sinful world is found;
Comes to pardon our transgression,
Like a cloud our sins to blot;
Comes to his own favour'd nation,
But his own receive him not.
If the angels who attended
To declare the Saviour's birth,
Who from heaven with songs descended
To proclaim good-will on earth:
If, in pity to our blindness,
They had brought the pardon needed,
Still Jehovah's wondrous kindness
Had our warmest hopes exceeded.
If some prophet had been sent
With Salvation's joyful news,
Who that heard the blest event
Could their warmest love refuse?
But 'twas he to whom in Heaven
Hallelujahs never cease;
He, the mighty God, was given,
Given to us a Prince of Peace.
None but he who did create us
Could redeem from sin and hell;
None but he could reinstate us
In the rank from which we fell.
Had he come, the glorious stranger,
Deck'd with all the world calls great;
Had he lived in pomp and grandeur,
Crown'd with more than royal state;
Still our tongues with praise o'erflowing,
On such boundless love would dwell;
Still our hearts with rapture glowing,
Feel what words could never tell.
But what wonder should it raise,
Thus our lowest state to borrow!
O the high mysterious ways,
God's own Son a child of sorrow!
'Twas to bring us endless pleasure,
He our suffering nature bore;
'Twas to give us heavenly treasure,
He was willing to be poor.
Come, ye rich, survey the stable
Where your infant Saviour lies;
From your full o'erflowing table
Send the hungry good supplies.
Boast not your ennobled stations,
Boast not that you're highly fed;
Jesus, hear it all ye nations,
Had not where to lay his head.
Learn of me, thus cries the Saviour,
If my kingdom you'd inherit;
Sinner, quit your proud behaviour,
Learn my meek and lowly spirit.
Come, ye servants, see your station
Freed from all reproach and shame;
He who purchased your salvation,
Bore a servant's humble name.
Come, ye poor, some comfort gather
Faint not in the race you run,
Hard the lot your gracious Father
Gave his dear, his only Son.
Think, that if your humbler stations,
Less of worldly good bestow,
You escape those strong temptations,
Which from wealth and grandeur flow.
See your Saviour is ascended!
See he looks with pity down!
Trust him, all will soon be mended,
Bear his cross, you'll share his crown.
Hannah More's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Christmas Hymn by Hannah More )
- Searching truth, gajanan mishra
- Thank You Lord, Athena Hood
- Finnish, Leslie Philibert
- Life shall turn, hasmukh amathalal
- Introverted Victims, Aisling Chia
- No Sheep to Count, Aisling Chia
- Sunset, Kwai Chee Low
- The Immigrants, Romella Kitchens
- Dream of Music, Kwai Chee Low
- An Ode to Coffee, Kwai Chee Low
Poem of the Day
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- A Thought, Robert Louis Stevenson
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
- Heather Burns
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)