A lit­tle child is born to­night,
And He shall lead His own,
To end­less day, to glo­ry bright,
To lands of ev­er­last­ing light,
And to our Fa­ther’s throne.
A lit­tle child is born to­night,
And in the star­ry sky,
To Him the an­gels car­ols bring:
Good will and peace to men, they sing,
Glory to God on high,
Glory to God on high.

A lit­tle child is born to­night,
And shep­herds haste to see
Their God and king in in­fant form,
And wor­ship with their true hearts warm,
The Christ on bend­ed knee.
A lit­tle child is born to­night,
And wise men from afar
Follow afresh that won­drous light,
That glow­eth in the heav’n­ly height,
The Sav­ior’s morn­ing star,
The Sav­ior’s morn­ing star.

A lit­tle child is born to­night,
To hearts for long years lone,
To An­na, wi­dow, Si­me­on, sage
Their star of child­hood, joy of age,
For ev­er­more their own.
A lit­tle child is born to­night,
O come ye, one and all,
And hail in faith, and hope, and love,
The Child who left His throne above,
To lie in yon­der stall,
To lie in yon­der stall.