1 Great King! from Heaven’s high throne descending low,
In Bethlehem’s stable born in cold and woe,
Thou shiverest in a manger, Babe divine,
Much hast Thou borne for sins: how much for mine!

2 The world’s creator Thou, our God adored,
Thou sufferest cold and want, O humbled Lord!
Dear chosen Child! when love transforms Thee so,
For Thee my heart the more with love shall glow.

3 In joy reposing on Thy Father’s breast,
How can a couch of straw afford Thee rest?
Sweet love, thus pained, inflame my frozen heart,
Jesus! to me Thy purest love impart.

4 If thus to suffer was Thy gracious will,
Yet, loving Savior! let me ask Thee still,
What could Thy blissful soul to suffering move?
Thou weepest—not for grief—Ah no! for love.

5 Thou grievest, after all Thy love, to see
Thyself so little loved, O God, by me;
Yet if the past so little love has shown,
I love Thee now, O Jesus, Thee alone.

6 Thou sleepest, holy Infant! but Thou art
For us still wakeful in Thy tender heart:
Tell me, O beauteous Lamb! say what may be
Thy thoughts?—I hear thee lisp: "To die for thee."

7 Thou dwellest on Thy death for me, with joy;
Who then, save Thee, shall all my thoughts employ?
Mary, my hope! if less I love your Son,
O love Him you for me, and all is done.