Who is this, so weak and help­less,
Child of low­ly He­brew maid,
Rudely in a sta­ble shel­tered,
Coldly in a man­ger laid?
’Tis the Lord of all cre­ation,
Who this won­drous path hath trod;
He is God from ev­er­last­ing,
And to ev­er­last­ing God.

Who is this, a man of sor­rows,
Walking sad­ly life’s hard way,
Homeless, wea­ry, sigh­ing, weep­ing,
Over sin and Sa­tan’s sway?
’Tis our God, our glo­ri­ous Sav­ior,
Who above the star­ry sky
Now for us a place pre­par­eth,
Where no tear can dim the eye.

Who is this? Be­hold Him shed­ding
Drops of blood up­on the ground!
Who is this, des­pised, re­ject­ed,
Mocked, in­sult­ed, beat­en, bound?
’Tis our God, who gifts and grac­es
On His church now pour­eth down;
Who shall smite in right­eous judg­ment
All His foes be­neath His throne.

Who is this that hang­eth dy­ing
While the rude world scoffs and scorns,
Numbered with the ma­le­fac­tors,
Torn with nails, and crowned with thorns?
’Tis the God who ev­er liv­eth,
’Mid the shin­ing ones on high,
In the glo­ri­ous gold­en ci­ty,
Reigning ev­er­last­ing­ly.