- Away in a manger, no crib for His bed,
The little Lord Jesus laid down His sweet head,
The stars in the sky looking down where He lay,
The little Lord Jesus asleep in the hay.
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- The cattle are lowing, the poor baby wakes,
But little Lord Jesus, no cry does He make.
I love Thee, Lord Jesus; look down from the sky,
And stay by my crib, watching my lullaby.
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