The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
( O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright. )
The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast,
His hair was like a star.
( O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are. )
The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
( O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire. )
The Christ-child stood at Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at him.
And all the stars looked down.