The road that leads to Bethlehem is cold as winter snow

But underneath a mantle blue there shines a holy glow

The donkey’s breath makes frosty clouds that call before the mind

The fragrant incense burning in the temple left behind

In ever-watchful vigil stands the man who fosters God

Helping, aiding, always near, wherever they have trod

The city’s lights are warm and gold, inviting trav’lers in

But none will lodge the weary souls who bring a babe from Heav’n

A barn becomes the hallowed place where Love comes down to earth,

A sanctuary consecrated by the virgin birth.

Though kings and princes reign and lofty empires rise to power

No regent is more mighty than the baby born that hour.