Shepherds, come to Bethlehem,
Pluck yon bush of Christmas rose,
Weave a dainty diadem.

From my flute with tuneful stem
Music warbles as it flows,
“Shepherds, come to Bethlehem.”

Lo, upon the mountain’s hem
Ruby clouds above the snows
Weave a dainty diadem.

Seek not proud Jerusalem,
Where the empty temple shows;
Shepherds, come to Bethlehem.

Christ without a crown or gem
Lies on straw while winter blows;
Weave a dainty diadem.

Christ will not our gift condemn;
All our poverty He knows.
Shepherds, come to Bethlehem,
Weave a dainty diadem.