Wrap the child warm in his birthing shroud

And lay him to sleep on his mother's breast,

Keeping him safe from the ones who would harm.

This is the child in whom our hope dwells.

When he is grown, he will teach us and lead

With stories that tell of a larger love.

Now, sing him songs of softest lullaby.

This is the child in whom our hope dwells.

Come friend and stranger, come to Bethlehem

To worship or wonder or stand silently by.

Come with your gifts, or with empty hands.

This is the child in whom our hope dwells.