O little town of Bethlehem,
With busy streets and small,
How came you not to give a hall
To those who safeguard such a gem
As Christ the Son of God?
Your dwellers all did not take heed,
That Mary and her Son had need
Of rest and warmth; they turn away
The One who made their night and day,
And is made man to pay their debt
And by His death, their bliss abet.
O little town of Bethlem,
The night has fallen fast.
The people to their beds at last,
Turn head and hand; no sight for them
As for the shepherds poor.
The angels in the sky will sing,
The wisemen three their gifts will bring,
The Virgin Queen her Son will bear-
But You! O Town! You will not share
The joy all Heaven rings forth this night
That shines in Jesus' star so bright!
Awake, O Town! You are the one
In which, this night, God placed His Son,
To now begin His earthly life,
To save your people, end the strife.
And True! His birth all hell confounds,
While glorious praise in Heaven resounds.