The child is born, the angel sings.
A darkened moming, still he sings.
Amid the storms he hears the waking of the morn:
A newborn king.
A song of peace, the angel song.
This child will weep and bear the wrongs;
This child will seek the poor and needy ones who weep,
And make them strong.
The shepherds flee, they fear this song.
Still now they seek the one that's come.
On maiden's knee, a babe that's born to make them free;
They kneel to see.
Pulled from afar, three ancient men.
They read the stars to Bethlehem:
A newborn star just where the babe and maiden are,
For every land.
Come rain, come shine; come weal, come woe;
Come shepherd sign, in friend or foe;
Still yet it shines, this light of life that now we find
In weal or woe.

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