When Christ was born in Bethlehem,
Uncrowned with royal diadem,
The child within the manger lay,
No room within the inn that day;
No room for Christ, the Holy Child,
No room for Christ, the meek and mild
Though ages since have come and gone,
So many crowd out God’s dear Son.
No room for Christ has wayward youth,
And heedless hearts turn from His truth;
By business, pleasure crowded out,
And life is spent in darkness, doubt;
If for Him here there is no room,
How dread at last will be the doom;
Forever banished from Him there,
In deep, unspeakable despair.