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.
Christmas as is a celebration of Christ's birth. I am forever grateful.
3 comments:
Merry Christmas to you and your family.
GLad that your run was painfree.
lovely song.
I get all misty when I hear it on a violin.
You know all the words?! I'm so impressed. It used to be my favorite to play on the violin (I was going to say that even before I saw Benson's comment, by the way!). I'm glad that the run was pain-free and that you don't have anything awful to say about the Idaho weather. Must mean you had a merry Christmas.
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