Green grows the lowly mistletoe, Through frost and winter’s keeping, When every limb lies pale with snow, Its tender leaves are peeping. The holly bears the crown of flame, The ivy guards the wall— But under eaves, in love’s sweet name, The mistletoe still calls. Sing, sing, ye hearts below, Praise the Child ’mid winter’s snow! Peace and mercy ever grow, Where hangs the green mistletoe. No garden fair, nor royal hall, Did see His cradle lying, But shepherds came at Heaven’s call, And angels sang replying. The stars bent low, the candles burned, The world was hushed and mild— And from that night, all hearts have turned To greet the holy Child. Sing, sing, ye hearts below, Praise the Child ’mid winter’s snow! Love and faith together show, Where hangs the green mistletoe. It’s berries pale as morning dew, On greenest boughs they gleam— A sign of hearts made pure and true, By love’s redeeming dream. The evergreen through winter’s veil, Proclaims what grace bestows— That souls made clean shall never fail, Where Heaven’s mercy goes. Sing, sing, ye hearts below, Praise the Child ’mid winter’s snow! Faith and hope together show, Where hangs the green mistletoe. So lift the cup, and light the flame, And keep the hearth-fire burning, For every gift that bears His name Is grace of His returning. And if ye stand ’neath green and white, Then kiss in peace, not guile— For mercy bloomed that holy night, And angels stooped to smile. Sing, sing, ye hearts below, Praise the Child ’mid winter’s snow! Faith and joy forever show, Where hangs the green mistletoe!
