When Christ was born in Beth­le­hem,
Uncrowned with roy­al dia­dem,
The child with­in the man­ger lay,
No room with­in the inn that day;
No room for Christ, the Ho­ly Child,
No room for Christ, the meek and mild
Though ag­es since have come and gone,
So ma­ny crowd out God’s dear Son.

No room for Christ has way­ward youth,
And heed­less hearts turn from His truth;
By bu­si­ness, plea­sure crowd­ed out,
And life is spent in dark­ness, doubt;
If for Him here there is no room,
How dread at last will be the doom;
Forever ban­ished from Him there,
In deep, un­speak­able des­pair.