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No Crowded eastern street,
No sound of passing feet;
Far to the left and far to right,
The prairie snows spread far and white;
Yet still to us is born tonight
The child, the King of glory.
No rock-hewn place of peace
Shared with the gentle beasts,
But sturdy farm house, stout and warm,
With stable, shed, and great red barn;
And still to us is born tonight
The child, the King of glory.
No blaze of heavenly fire
No bright celestial choir,
Only the starlight as of old,
Crossed by the plane's flash, red and gold;
Yet stil to us is born tonight
The child, the King of glory.
No kings with gold and grain,
No stately camel train:
Yet in his presence all may stand
With loving heart and willing hand;
For still to us is born tonight
The child, the King of glory.
