(Franz Gruber - Joseph Mohr)      Yes, he was born in an obscure village   The son of a simple pleasant woman   He grew up in another small town   And worked with his father in a carpenter shop   Until he was thirty   And then for three years he was   What we would call a traveling preacher   He never wrote a book, he never held political office   The places he did go, he usually walked   He never did any of the things   That one usually associates with greatness   He had no credentials but himself   When he was only thirty three   The tide of public opinion turned against him   Some of his friends deserted him   One denied him, one even betrayed him   And turned him over to his enemies   He went through the mockery of a trial   He was nailed to a cross between two thieves   While he was dying his executioners gambled   For his only possession, His robe, his purple robe   When he was dead he was taken from the cross   And laid in a borrowed grave   Provided through the compassion of a friend   Nineteen wide centuries have since come and gone   And today this man is the centerpiece of the human race   The leader in the column of mankinds progress   I think that I am well within the mark when I say   All the armies that ever marched   All the navies that ever sailed the seven seas   All the legislative bodies that ever met   All the kings and rulers that have ever rigned all put together   Have not effected the life of man on this earth   As much as that one solitare life.      Silent night, holy night   All is calm, all is bright   Round young virgin   Mother and child   Holy infant so tender and mild   Sleep in heavenly peace   Sleep in heavenly peace...