What Child is this, who, laid to rest
On Mar-y’s lap is sleeping?
Whom an-gels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?

Why lies He in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian fear, for sinners here,
The silent word is plea-ding.

This, this is Chris the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring him laud,
The Babe the Son of Mary.

So bring Him incense, gold and mirth,
Come, peasant kind, to own 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 grace,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

Raise, raise the song on high,
The Virgin sings her lullaby.
Joy, joy, for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.