What child is this, who laid to rest on Mary's lap, is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthem sweet, while shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King, whom shepherds guard and angels sing.
This, this is Christ the King, the Babe, the Son of Mary.
I
see in such fearless state, where oaks and liners
heed, a silent word is pleading.
This, this is Christ the King, whom shepherds guard and angels sing.
This, this is Christ the King, the Babe, the Son of Mary.
O bring me, Vincent, gold and myrrh, a peasant king to own me.
The King of Kings salvation brings, let loving hearts enthrone him.
This, this is Christ the King, whom shepherds guard and angels sing.
This, this is Christ the King, the Babe, the Son of Mary.