Dluxe's World

Sunday, December 24

Being's Source Begins to Be...

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.


  • It's not a pleasant image: a soft, vulnerable newborn boy having His future set as the subject of the most cruel death the Romans could come up with. Singing this song in church on Sunday was emotional for me. I don't remember ever hearing that verse before.

    By Blogger Eva, at 1:12 PM, December 25, 2006  

  • Excellent choice (my choice for Christmas eve as well).

    Eva, many sing a "toned down" version of the hymn that repeats the last half of the first verse as a chorus and cuts out some of the more "Easter" references.

    By Blogger Taliesin, at 9:41 PM, December 26, 2006  

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