I cannot tell why he whom angels worship should set his love upon the sons of men, or why, as Shepherd, he should seek the wand'rers to bring them back, they know not how or when. But this I know, that he was born of Mary when Bethl'hem's manger was his only home, and that he lived at Nazareth and labored, and so the Savior, Savior of the world, is come.
I cannot tell how silently he suffered, as with his peace he graced this place of tears, or how his heart upon the cross was broken, the crown of pain to three and thirty years. But this I know: he heals the brokenhearted and stays our sin, and calms our faithless fear, and lifts the burden from the heavy-laden; for still the presence of the Comforter is here.
I cannot tell when he will win the nations, when he will claim his heritage of earth, or satisfy the cries and crushing sorrows of east and west, of those who have new birth. But this I know: all flesh shall see his glory, and he shall reap the harvest he has sown, and some glad day his light will shine in splendor when he, the Savior, Savior of the world, is known.
I cannot tell how all the lands shall worship, when at his bidding ev'ry storm is stilled, or who can say how great the jubilation when ev'ry heart with love and joy is filled. But this I know: the skies will thrill with rapture, and myriad ransomed sons and daughters sing, and earth to heav'n, and heav'n to earth, will answer, "At last the Savior, Savior of the world, is King!"