Long lay the world in sin and error pining, till He appeared. A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
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. Chains shall he break, and in his name all oppression shall cease.
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.
Fall on your knees! Christ is the Lord!
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