The darkest midnight in December,
No snow nor hail nor winter's storm,
Shall hinder us to remember,
The Babe that on this night was born.
‘Twas but pure love that from above
Brought Him to save us from all harms;
Then let us sing and welcome Him,
The God of Love in Mary's arms.
No costly gifts can we present Him,
No gold nor myrrh nor odors sweet;
But if with our hearts we can content Him,
We humbly lay them at His feet.
With Shepherds we are come to see
This lovely Infant's glorious charms;
Born of a maid as prophets said,
The God of Love in Mary's arms.

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