With joye approch, O Christen wighte,
Do homage to thy Kinge:
And highly prise this humble pompe
Which He from heaven doth bringe.
VI. BLEST, WITHOUTEN MATCH
1.Blest, withouten match,
O Bethlem, is the gable
O'er that lowly cratch:—
The crib within thy stable.
For, as Babe, therein
That Lord and God abideth,
Who on Cherubyn
Aloft in glory rideth. Alleluia.
2.He is born to shrive
The son, his goods who squander'd,
Born to save alive
The sheep, that far had wander'd.
So bear we in mind
To hymn this heavenly stranger:—
God, who, for mankind,
Did not abhor the manger. Alleluia.
VII. CHRIST IS AT THY PORTALS
'Christ is at thy portals:
Bethlem, ready make!
Soon, to save all mortals,
Christmas dawn shall break.
Bethlem, deck the manger,
Group the shepherd band;
Christ is near thy border,
