No room for Him, in whose small hand
The trou­bled sea and migh­ty land
Lie cra­dled like a grain of sand;
No room, dear Babe, for Thee
That Christ­mas night; and we
E’en dare to shut our sin­ful hearts
And turn the key.

Refrain

Fling wide the door, and bid the Lord
Come in, come in.

In vain Thy plead­ing ba­by cry
Strikes our deaf souls; we pass Thee by,
Unsheltered ’neath the win­try sky.
No room for God? Shall we
Close bar our doors, nor see
Our Sav­ior wait­ing just out­side,
So turn the key.

Refrain

Fling wide the doors! dear Christ, turn back!
The ash­es on my heart lie black—
Of light and warmth a to­tal lack.
This de­so­la­tion drear
Has filled my heart with fear;
How can I bid Thee, Christ, my Lord,
Find en­trance here?

Refrain

What bleak­er shel­ter can there be
Than my cold heart’s te­pi­di­ty—
Chilled, wind-tossed as the win­ter sea?
I shrink from Thy pure eye:
To of­fer—naught have I;
Yet, in Thy mer­cy, Lord, I cry,
Pass me not by.

Refrain