Sweet Is The Infant's Waking

God Hath Sworn To Lift On High Who Sinks Himself By True Humility.

Look In, And See Christ's Chosen Saint In Triumph Wear His Christ-like Chain; No Fear Lest He Should Swerve Or Faint; "his Life Is Christ, His Death Is Gain.

Peace Is The First Thing The Angels Sang.

And Help Us, This And Every Day, To Live More Nearly As We Pray.

Soft As Memnon's Harp At Morning, To The Inward Ear Devout, Touched By Light, With Heavenly Warning Your Transporting Chords Ring Out. Every Leaf In Every Nook, Every Wave In Every Brook, Chanting With A Solemn Voice Minds Us Of Our Better Choice.