The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,His hair was like a light.(O weary, weary were the world,But here is all aright.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,His hair was like a star.(O stern and cunning are the kings,But here the true hearts are.)
The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,His hair was like a fire.(O weary, weary is the world, But here the world's desire.)
The Christ-child stood on Mary's kneeHis hair was like a crown, And all the flowers looked up at HimAnd all the stars looked down.