Christ from heaven's glory come, in a stable make your home. Helpless new-born babe-in-arms, dream of terror's night-alarms. Lullaby, my little love, Herod's troops are on the move. Cradled on a mother's knee, immigrant and refugee, talking, walking hand in hand, homeless in a foreign land, child of Mary, full of grace, exile of an alien race. Christ whose hand the hungry fed, stones were yours in place of bread; Christ whose love our ransom paid, by a kiss at last betrayed; friendless now, and nothing worth, join the outcasts of the earth. Soon the soldiers' jest is done, `They will reverence my Son.' On the gallows hang him high, `By our law he ought to die.' Perished, all the flower of youth: wash your hands, for what is truth? * * * Christ who once at Christmas came, move our hearts who name your Name. By your body, bring to birth truth and justice, peace on earth, sinners pardoned, love restored: reign among us, risen Lord!