What Child is this, who, laid to rest,
On Mary's lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch 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 Him in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian, fear: For sinner's here
The silent word is pleading.

This, this is Christ 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 myrrh,
Come, peasant, King 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 Laud,
The Babe, the son of Mary.