| Once in royal David’s city,
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| Stood a lowly cattle shed,
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| Where a mother laid her Baby,
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| In a manger for His bed:
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| Mary was that mother mild,
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| Jesus Christ, her little Child.
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| He came down to earth from heaven,
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| Who is God and Lord of all,
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| And His shelter was a stable,
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| And His cradle was a stall:
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| With the poor, and mean, and lowly,
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| Lived on earth our Savior holy.
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| For He is our childhood’s pattern;
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| Day by day, like us, He grew;
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| He was little, weak, and helpless,
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| Tears and smiles, like us He knew;
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| And He cares when we are sadness,
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| And he shares when we are gladness.
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| And our eyes at last shall see Him,
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| Through His own redeeming love;
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| For that Child so dear and gentle,
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| Is our Lord in heaven above:
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| And He leads His children on,
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| To the place where He is gone.
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| Not in that poor lowly stable.
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| With the oxen standing by;
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| We shall see Him but in Heaven,
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| Set at God’s right hand on high;
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| Where like stars His children crowned,
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| All in white shall wait around. |