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From starry skies Thou comest,

The King of Heav'n foretold,

Appearing in a manger,

Near frozen from the cold.

Jesus, dearest little Baby,

How I long to make Thee warm!

To shelter Thee from harm!

My heart is filled with pity

For Thy tiny form!

In Heav'n Thou art Creator,

The True and Only Word,

Yet here on earth no fire, Lord,

To keep Thee from the cold.

Jesus, dearest little Baby,

Come in direst poverty,

Would I had gifts for Thee!

How wonderful God's love that suffers here for me!