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?
He lies in such a lowly place
Where ox and ass are feeding?
The end of fear for all who hear
The silent Word is speaking.
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste to bring Him praise,
The babe, the son of Mary
So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh,
Come, peasant, King, to love Him;
The King of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste to bring Him praise,
The babe, the son of Mary
The babe, the son of Mary