O Mercy Divine, O Couldst Thou Incline (EN 5216)

1

O mercy divine, O couldst Thou incline,

My God, to become such as infant as mine?

What wonder of grace: The Ancient of Days

Is found in the likeness of Adam’s frail race!

2

He comes from on high, who fashioned the sky,

And meekly vouchsafes in a manger to lie;

Our God ever blest, with oxen doth rest,

Is nursed by His creature and hangs at the breast.

3

So heavenly-mild, His innocence smiled,

No wonder the mother would worship the Child,

The angels she knew had worshipped Him, too,

And still they confess adoration His due.

4

On Jesus’ face, with eager amaze,

And pleasure ecstatic the cherubim gaze;

Their newly born King, transported they sing,

And Heaven and earth with the triumph doth ring.

5

The shepherds behold Him, the promised of old,

By angels attended, by prophets foretold;

The wise men adore now, and bring Him their store,

The rich are permitted to follow the poor.

6

To the inn they repair, to see the young Heir;

The inn is a palace, for Jesus is there!

Who now would be great, and not rather wait

On Jesus their Lord in His humble estate?

7

Like Him would I be, my Master I see

In a stable; a manger shall satisfy me;

And here will I lie, till raised up on high,

With Him on the cross I recover the sky.