That winter night
when Christ Jesus slept
in a manger bed
on the sweet cropped hay,
a star arose to light the way
of those who followed
its quickening ray,
and lowly shepherds knelt to pray.
And here tonight in quiet room
or on battlefields
in a world war torn,
when a proud heart yields,
or a soldier kneels,
a child is born. A child is born.
The star still shines
while angels sing
the now that was then
of the Saviour's birth.
gathering in universal girth
of triumphant peace
the hearts of men.
