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THE SHEPHERDS' PLAIN.

Blessed hills, that heard the song Of the glorious angel- throng, Swelling all your slopes along.

Happy shepherds, on whose ear Fell the tidings glad and dear, " God to man is drawing near."

Happy shepherds, on whose eye Shone the glory from on high, Of the heavenly Majesty.

Happy, happy Bethlehem, Judah's least but brightest gem, Where the rod from Jesse's stem,

Scion of a princely race,

Sprung in heaven's own perfect grace, Yet in feeble lowliness.

This, the woman's promised seed Abram's mighty son indeed; Succourer of earth's great need.

This the victor in our war, This the glory seen afar, This the light of Jacob's star!

Happy Judah, rise and own Him, the heir of David's throne, David's Lord, and David's Son.

Babe of promise, born at last, After weary ages past, When our hopes were overcast.