The Christ-Child Lay On Mary'S Lap, His Hair Was Like A Light. (O Weary, Weary Were The World, But Here Is All Aright.) The Christ-Child Lay On Mary'S Breast, His Hair Was Like A Star. (O Stern And Cunning Are The Kings, But Here The True Hearts Are.) The Christ-Child Lay On Mary'S Heart, His Hair Was Like A Fire. (O Weary, Weary Is The World, But Here The World'S Desire.) The Christ-Child Stood At Mary'S Knee, His Hair Was Like A Crown, And All The Flowers Looked Up At Him. And All The Stars Looked Down.