I cannot tell why He whom angels worship, should set His love upon the sons of men, or why, as Shepherd, He should seek the wanderers, to bring them back, they know not how or when. But this I know: that He was born of Mary when Bethlehem's manger was His only home, and that He lived at Nazareth and laboured, and so the Saviour, Saviour of the world, has come. I cannot tell how silently He suffered, as with His peace He graced this place of tears, or how His heart upon the cross was broken, the crown of pain to three and thirty years. But this I know: He heals the broken-hearted and stays our sin and calms our faithless fear and lifts the burden from the heavy-laden; for still the presence of the Comforter is here. I cannot tell when He will win the nations, when He will claim His earthly heritage, or satisfy the cries and crushing sorrows of east and west, of those who have new birth. But this I know: all flesh shall see His glory, and He shall reap the harvest He has sown, and some glad day His light will shine in splendour when He the Saviour, Saviour of the world, is known. I cannot tell how all the lands shall worship, when at His bidding every storm is stilled, or who can say how great the jubilation when every heart with love and joy is filled. But this I know, the skies will sound His praises, ten thousand thousand human voices sing, and earth to heaven, and heaven to earth, will answer, "At last the Saviour, Saviour of the world, is King!"