Come, come, come to the manger,
children, come to the children’s King.
Sing, sing chorus of angels,
stars of morning, over Bethlehem sing.
He lies mid the beasts of the stall,
who is maker and Lord of us all.
The wintry wind blows cold and dreary,
see he weeps, the world is weary,
Lord, have pity and mercy on me.
He leaves all his glory behind
to be born and to die for mankind,
with grateful beasts his cradle chooses,
thankless men, his love refuses.
Lord, have pity and mercy on me.
