Cradled in a man­ger, mean­ly,
Laid the Son of Man His head;
Sleeping His first earth­ly slum­ber
Where the ox­en had been fed.
Happy were those shep­herds list­en­ing
To the ho­ly an­gel’s word;
Happy they with­in that sta­ble
Worshipping their in­fant Lord.

Happy all who hear the mes­sage
Of His com­ing from above;
Happier still who hail His com­ing,
And with prais­es greet His love.
Blessèd Sav­ior, Christ most ho­ly,
In a man­ger Thou didst rest;
Canst Thou stoop again, yet low­er,
And abide with­in my breast?

Evil things are there be­fore Thee;
In the heart, where they have fed,
Wilt Thou pi­ti­ful­ly en­ter,
Son of Man, and lay Thy head?
Enter, then, O Christ most ho­ly;
Make a Christ­mas in my heart;
Make a hea­ven of my man­ger:
It is hea­ven where Thou art.

And to those who ne­ver list­ened
To the mes­sage of Thy birth,
Who have win­ter, but no Christ­mas
Bringing them Thy peace on earth,
Send to these the joy­ful tid­ings;
By all peo­ple, in each home,
Be there heard the Christ­mas an­them;
Praise to God, the Christ has come!