The world was dark with care and woe,
With brawl and plea­sure wild,
When in the midst, His love to show,
God set a child.

The sag­es frowned, their beards they shook,
For pride their heart be­guiled;
They said, each look­ing on his book,
We want no child.

The mer­chants turned to­wards their scales,
Around their wealth lay piled;
Said they, ’Tis gold alone pre­vails;
We want no child.

The sol­diers rose in noi­sy sport,
Disdainfully they smiled,
And said, Can babes the shield sup­port?
We want no child.

The mer­ry sin­ners laughed or blushed,
Alas, and some re­viled;
All cried, as to the dance they rushed,
We want no child.

The old, th’af­flict­ed, and the poor,
With voic­es harsh or mild,
Said, Hope to us re­turns no more;
We want no child.

And men of grave and mo­ral word,
With con­scienc­es de­filed,
Said, Let the old truth still be heard;
We want no child.

Then said the Lord, “O world of care
So blind­ed and be­guiled,
Thou must be­come for thy re­pair
A ho­ly child.

And un­to thee a son is born,
Thy se­cond hope has smiled;
Thou mayst, though sin and trou­ble worn,
Be made a child.