Was there nothing but a manger
Cursed sinners could afford,
To receive the heavenly stranger?
Did they thus affront the Lord?

Soft, my child! I did not chide thee,
Though my song might sound too hard:
'Tis thy mother sits beside thee,
And her arm shall be thy guard.

Yet to read the shameful story.
How the Jews received their King,
How they served the Lord of Glory,
Makes me angry while I sing.

See the kinder shepherds round him,
Telling wonders from the sky!
Where hey sought him, there they found him,
With his Virgin-mother by.

See the lovely Babe a-dressing:
Lovely infant, how he smiled!
When he wept, his mother's blessing
Sooth'd and hush'd the holy Child.

Lo, he slumbers in a manger,
Where the horned oxen fed!--
Peace, my darling, here's no danger:
There's no ox a-near thy bed.