Sunday Hymn: As with Gladness, Men of Old

As with glad­ness, men of old
Did the guid­ing star be­hold
As with joy they hailed its light
Leading on­ward, beam­ing bright
So, most glo­ri­ous Lord, may we
Evermore be led to Thee.

As with joy­ful steps they sped
To that low­ly man­ger bed
There to bend the knee be­fore
Him whom Heav­en and earth ad­ore;
So may we with will­ing feet
Ever seek Thy mer­cy seat.

As they of­fered gifts most rare
At that man­ger rude and bare;
So may we with ho­ly joy,
Pure and free from sin’s al­loy,
All our cost­li­est trea­sures bring,
Christ, to Thee, our heav­en­ly king.

Holy Jes­us, ev­ery day
Keep us in the nar­row way;
And, when earth­ly things are past,
Bring our ran­somed souls at last
Where they need no star to guide,
Where no clouds Thy glo­ry hide.

In the heav­en­ly coun­try bright,
Need they no cre­at­ed light;
Thou its light, its joy, its crown,
Thou its sun which goes not down;
There for­ev­er may we sing
Alleluias to our king!

—Will­iam C. Dix