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 beast are feeding? Could Christian fear for sinners hear, The silent world 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. *