“Why lies he here in such mean estate,
where ox and ass are feeding?”
Good Christian, 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 pauper, prince to praise him.
The king of kings salvation brings: let loving hearts enthrone him.
Raise, raise the song on high: the Virgin sings her lullaby!
Joy, joy for Christ is born, the babe, the son of Mary!
— William Chatterton Dix