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 ass 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