My Gift, My Offering
O’er Judah’s hills arose a song, The choirs of heaven, singing ere the dawn, And legions gathered at the manger-side, Their gift an anthem to the Holy Child. No harp of gold have I to play, Nor voice of angels tuned to sing His praise, But with a spirit full of carols to the newborn King, I bring my song to Him, My gift, my offering. O’er eastern lands arose a star, A shining beacon to seekers from afar, And wise men followed the bright celestial guide To bring their treasures to the Holy Child. No gift have I, like those of old, I set before Him the treasures of my soul, And though I bear no riches worthy of the newborn King, I bring my heart to Him, My gift, my offering. His guiding light shines o’er us still, And joyful tidings echo from the hills, And I will follow to the manger-side, To bring my homage to the Holy Child, No earthly wealth have I to give, Nor angel anthems, but what I have is His, And as I kneel before the cradle of the newborn King, I bring my all to Him, My song and my soul to Him, I bring my all to Him, My gift, my offering.