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

Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and donkeys are feeding?
Good Christians, 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

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 a song on high,
The virgin sings her lullaby
Joy, joy for Christ is born,
The babe, the son of Mary

This, this is Christ the king,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring Him laud,
The babe, the son of Mary

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