Indexes for The Sacred Harp, 2025 Edition

Hail the blest morn, when the great Mediator
Down from the regions of glory descends;
Shepherds, go worship the babe in the manger,
Lo! for His guard the bright angels attend.

Cold on His cradle the dewdrops are shining,
Low lies His bed with the beasts of the stall;
Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,
Maker, and Monarch, and Savior of all.

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odors of Edom and off’rings divine,
Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest and gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation,
Vainly with gold would His favor secure;
Richer by far is the heart’s adoration,
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness and lend us thine aid;
Star of the east, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.