He worshipp'd at the manger-bed,
And then the exile comforted;
And sought his Son, and joyous found,
While on His Father's business bound.
He through sweet toil and patient pains
The world's Artificer sustains;
And Whom th' angelic legions praise
Obedience to His creature pays.
And now he waxes old, and dies;
But first beholds with loving eyes,