I
HE WAS BORN, OUT BACK, IN A BARN BY THE WAYSIDE.
HIS LITTLE BODY WRAPPED, IN RAGS TO KEEP OFF THE COLD.
A BALE OF HAY, HIS PRECIOUS HEAD, TO LAY ON.
AND THE DEVIL, STARTED WAR. FOR HIS SWEET SOUL.
II
HE HAD NO EARTHLY MANSION, HERE TO LIVE IN.
NO FINE CLOTHES UPON HIS BACK HE WORE.
WHILE HERE ON EARTH, HE LAID UP, NOT ONE TREASURER.
AND YET HE LOVED, US SO, OUR GUILT AND SINS HE BORE.
III
HIS LIFE ON EARTH, WAS NOT MUCH TO LOOK FORWARD TO.
DYING TO SAVE A WORLD, OH SO LOST.
AND WHILE HEAR ON EARTH, HE FOUGHT A HERO'S BATTLE
AND THEN HE WON THE WAR.
WHEN HE DIED ON A RUGGED CROSS.
CHORUS
HIS TENDER FEET, WILL WALK NO MORE, DOWN THESE DUSTY ROADS
HIS HEAD WILL WEAR NO THRONE CROWDS MEN HAVE WOVE,
HE MAY WEAR A CROWN. THE ANGLES MADE OF A RAINBOW.
AND HIS FEET WILL TROD A STREET OF PUREST GOLD.