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!