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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: 
Haste, haste to bring Him laud, 
The Babe, the Son of Mary. 
The Babe, the Son of Mary. 
 
Why lies He in such mean estate 
Where ox and lamb are feeding? 
Good Christian, fear: for sinners here 
The silent Word 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. 
 
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! 
 
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. 
 
Raise, raise, the song on high, 
The Virgin sings her lullaby: 
Joy joy for Christ is born, 
The Babe, the Son of Mary! 
 
This, this is Christ the King, 
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing: 
Haste, haste to bring Him laud, 
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

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Пожалуйста, введите символы с изображения, чтобы мы понимали, что вы разумный человек, а не робот.

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