1 Two thousand troubled years
Time’s weary brow have worn,
Since that strange star to shepherds told
The Prince of Peace was born.
2 Two thousand years of gloom,
Of groping toward the light,
Of prophets scorned and martyrs slain,
And battle done for right.
3 But year by year the bells
The old glad tidings bring,
And men forget their strife, to keep
The birthday of the King.
4 Christ’s kingdom yet will come,
And good prevail o’er ill,
Though often with a crown of thorns
We mock the Master still.
5 But He will not forsake
The world for which He died,
Till all mankind be gathered home
At the great Christmastide.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #12910