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 love,
The Babe,
the Son of Mary.
Why lies he in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
That Christian fear for sinners here,
The silent word is pleading.
Nails, spears shall pierce him through,
The cross be borne for me, for you.
Hail! Hail! The Bird -made Flesh,
the Babe, the Son of Mary.
So bring him incense, gold, and myrrh
Come, peasant king, to own him
The King of Kings salvation
brings that loving hearts and throne him.
Raise, raise the psalm on high,
the Virgin sings her lullaby.
Joy, joy, for Christ is born,
the Babe, the Son of Mary.
you