What Child is This?


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.

Words by William C. Dix

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No other name in all history elicits such differing and intense responses.  Jesus, the son of Mary
Jesus, the Son of God
Jesus, the Son of Man
Jesus, the Son of David
Jesus, the Christ
Jesus, the Messiah

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Who is this child– ruler of the universe,
Laid in a feeding stall,
In a simple stable,
In a small town,
In a captive land?
Son of a carpenter (illegitimate, by some accounts),
In the royal line of David (but so far removed as to be of no account).

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Yet angel hosts sing “Gloria!”
Kings and philosophers travel from distant lands for just a glimpse,
Bringing priceless treasures and humbled hearts,
While the beleaguered puppet king of a conquered people 
Prepares to destroy him.

Will he rise to take his place in Herod’s palace?
Will he lead a revolt to free his people from Rome?
Will he bring together rival factions among the priesthood?
Will he …
Die in agony, betrayed and scorned?

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This, this is Christ the King;
The Lamb of God.
Savior and Sacrifice.
“The Silent Word”, 
Pleading,
Healing,
Bleeding,
Ascending.
Even in his humble life and
Ignominious death
He rose to change the world–
Stopping time and dividing it into
All that came before and
All that has happened since.

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This is Christ the King
Bruised for our sins,
Betrayed by our selfishness
Cheapened by our compromise and corruption.

Bring him incense, gold, and myrrh;
He is more than our tinsel, jingle bells, and platinum charge cards.
He is the King– He is a Babe; the son of Mary.

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