1. What Child is this, who, laid to rest,
On Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom Angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King;
Whom shepherds guard and Angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.
2. Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian, fear: for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading:
Nails, spear, shall pierce Him through,
The Cross be borne, for me, for you:
Hail, hail, the Word made Flesh,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!
3. So bring Him incense, gold and myrrh,
Come peasant, king, to own Him:
The King of kings, salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.
Raise, raise, the song on high,
The Virgin sings her lullaby:
Joy, joy, for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!