Unto us a son is given

Given, not lent,

And not withdrawn -- once sent,

This Infant of mankind, this One,

Is still the little welcome Son.

New every year,

New born and newly dear,

He comes with tidings and a song,

The ages long, the ages long;

Even as the cold

Keen winter grows not old,

As childhood is so fresh, foreseen,

And spring in the familiar green --

Sudden as sweet

Come the expected feet.

All joy is young, and new all art,

And He, too, Whom we have by heart.