| Open wide the stable door,
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| Monarchs rich and shepherds poor
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| Wait to tread the holy floor
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| Where lies the Son of God.
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| See, they bring Him gifts of gold,
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| Tender lambs from Judah’s fold,
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| As with awe their eyes behold
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| The infant Son of God.
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| I am not a wealthy King,
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| Naught have I for offering.
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| E’en a lamb I cannot bring
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| To give Thee, Son of God.
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| Yet I would be at Thy side
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| And the door is open wide!
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| What can empty hands provide,
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| Oh, what, Thou Son of God?
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| Not without can I remain,
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| Not my heart’s deep urge restrain,
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| Trembling 'neath my love and pain,
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| I come, dear Son of God.
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| Now I bow me at Thy stall,
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| Giftless, yet I give Thee all;
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| Thou art the Lord, and I am thrall
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| To Thee, O Son of God! |