I think I might be weary of this day br That comes inevitably every year, br The same when I was young and strong and gay, br The same when I am old and growing sere- br I should grow weary of it every year br But that thou comest to me every day. br br I shall grow weary if thou every day br But come to me, Lord of eternal life; br I shall grow weary thus to watch and pray, br For ever out of labour into strife; br Take everlasting house with me, my life, br And I shall be new-born this Christmas-day. br br Thou art the Eternal Son, and born no day, br But ever he the Father, thou the Son; br I am his child, but being born alway- br How long, O Lord, how long till it be done? br Be thou from endless years to years the Son- br And I thy brother, new-born every day.