Oer Judahs Plain There Fell A Strain


O’er Judah’s plain; there fell a strain
Of music low and tender;
And far and wide there stream’d a tide,
Of sudden, wondrous splendor,
The whole glad air seem’d pulsing with;
A cradle hymn sang lowly,
As by a choir of angels fair,
That midnight calm and holy.

“O lullaby! O lullaby!
Thou blest Son of the Highest,
O lullaby! O lullaby!
On bed of hay thou liest.”

On Judah’s plain; the low, sweet strain,
Was heard by shepherds keeping
Their lonely vigils that calm night
O’er flocks in safety sleeping.
The shepherd’s gaz’d with sore amaze,
And sank to earth afearing,
As on the tide of golden light
The singers seem’d anearing.

“O lullaby! O lullaby!
Thou Dear Desire of Nations,
O lullaby! O lullaby!
We bring thee rare oblations.”

On Judah’s plain; the low, sweet strain,
Led shepherds to the manger,
Where on a bed of fragrant hay,
Slept Christ, the kingly stranger,
Then fainter and still fainter fell
The cradle hymn so tender,
And slowly faded from thee sky
The mystic, golden splendor.

“O lullaby! O lullaby!
Thou King of Life and Glory,
O lullaby! O lullaby!
All nations shall adore thee.”