The Star of Bethlehem
by Charles Wolfe (1791-1823)

When marshall’d on the mighty plain,
⁠      The glittering host bestud the sky;
One star alone, of all the train,
⁠      Can fix the sinner’s wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
⁠      From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks,
⁠      It is the star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,
⁠      The storm was loud-the night was dark.
The ocean yawn’d—and rudely blow’d
⁠      The wind that toss’d my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze,
⁠      Death-struck, I ceas’d the tide to stem;
When suddenly a star arose,—
⁠      It was the star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all,
⁠      It bade my dark forebodings cease;
And, through the storm and danger’s thrall,
⁠      It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moor’d—my perils o’er,
⁠      I’ll sing, first in night’s diadem
For ever and for evermore,
⁠      The Star!—-The Star of Bethlehem!

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