When, marshaled on the nightly plain,
The glittering hosts 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 Savior speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,
The storm was loud, the night was dark,
The ocean yawned, and rudely blowed
The wind that tossed my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze,
Death-struck, I ceased 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, moored, my perils o’er
I’ll sing, first in night’s diadem,
Forever and forevermore,
The star! The Star of Bethlehem!

Not technically in the Sacred Harp, but it’s a Christmas-themed shape note carol. This recording is from a Christmas album by the Tudor Choir. Go buy it, it’s great!

The tune is usually set to lyrics by Robert Burns:

Ye banks and braes o’ bonnie Doon
How ye can bloom so fresh and fair
How can ye chant ye little birds
And I sae weary fu’ o’ care

Ye’ll break my heart ye warbling birds
That wantons thro’ the flowering thorn
Ye mind me o’ departed joys
Departed never to return

Oft hae I rov’d by bonnie Doon
To see the rose and woodbine twine
And ilka bird sang o’ its love
And fondly sae did I o’ mine

Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose
Fu’ sweet upon its thorny tree
But my false lover stole my rose
But ah! She left the thorn wi’ me

How long, dear Savior, Oh how long
Shall this bright hour delay?
Fly swift around, ye wheels of time,
And bring the promised day.

From the third heaven, where God resides,
That holy, happy place,
The new Jerusalem comes down,
Adorned with shining grace.

Someone posted a version of this song from Seoul about a week ago.

And let this feeble body fail,
And let it faint or die;
My soul shall quit this mournful vale,
And soar to worlds on high,

And I’ll sing hallelujah,
And you’ll sing hallelujah,
And we’ll all sing hallelujah,
When we arrive at home.

Shall join the disembodied saints,
And find its long-sought rest,
The only bliss for which it pants,
In my Redeemer’s breast.

Oh what are all my suff’rings here,
If, Lord, Thou count me meet
With that enraptured host t’appear,
And worship at Thy feet.

Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
Take life or friends away,
But let me find them all again,
In that eternal day.

Young people, all attention give,
And hear what I do say;
I want your souls with Christ to live,
In everlasting day;
Remember, you are hast’ning on
To death’s dark, gloomy shade;
Your joys on earth will soon be gone,
Your flesh in dust be laid.

Salvation! O, the joyful sound!
’Tis pleasure to our ears;
A sov’reign balm for ev’ry wound,
A cordial for our fears.

Buried in sorrow and in sin;
At hell’s dark door we lay,
But we arise by grace divine,
To see a heav’nly day.

Salvation! Let the echo fly
The spacious earth around,
While all the armies of the sky,
Conspire to raise the sound.

A good one for All Souls Day:

Youth, like the spring, will soon be gone,
By fleeting time or conqu’ring death;
Your morning sun may set at noon,
And leave you ever in the dark.
Your sparkling eyes and blooming cheeks
Must wither like the blasted rose;
The coffin, earth, and winding sheet
Will soon your active limbs enclose.

Ye heedless ones who wildly stroll,
The grave will soon become your bed,
Where silence reigns and vapors roll,
In solemn darkness ’round your head.
Your friends will pass the lonesome place,
And with a sigh move slowly on,
Still gazing on the spires of grass
With which your graves are overgrown.

Ye blooming youth, this is the state
Of all who do thy grace refuse;
And soon with you ’twill be too late
The way of life and Christ to choose.
Come lay your carnal weapons by,
No longer fight against your God;
But with the gospel now comply,
And heav’n shall be your great reward.