Come to his cradle, oh children of earth

Lofty in power or lowly in birth

Bless him, ye sage ones who wait for your rest

And drink of his mercy, ye babes at the breast.

Come to his cradle, ye prophets of old

See in his slumber the wonders foretold

Ye who are weeping, come hear his sweet laugh

And ye who are wandering, to him bend your path.

Come to his cradle, oh Israel’s line

Seek him, ye nations, and peace ye shall find

Greet him, ye exiles, for his is your land

And hail him, ye prisoners, made free by his hand.

Come to his cradle, in faith or in doubt

Join in the carol the very stones shout

Hear him, ye simple, if ye would be wise

And trust him, oh sinners, made pure in his eyes.

Come to his cradle, all ye that have breath

Feasting in sunlight or walking with death

Worship in silence, or joyously sing

And gaze on the face of the newly born king.