He was an insurance agent. Life insurance or health insurance wasn't a thing in Glasgow, Scotland in 1869. Life or medical wasn't a thing anywhere back then, for that matter. But in the United Kingdom at the time, maritime insurance was vital. The young man in question, Mr. William Dix, was not a particularly good agent, but he wasn't terrible, either. Twenty nine years old, he was still learning the trade. Nothing special about William. He liked to dabble in the writing of poetry (common for the time) and he enjoyed his family. He married Juliet in 1864 and she was soon with child. Life looked promising.

        But then, in 1865 he was struck down by a fever. It was doubtful that he would live, but he did pull through. However, the neat brush with death left him depressed. For the first time in his life, he fully realized that death loomed and that someday it would claim him. What would happen to Juliet and his unborn child. Life would be cruel to them.

        William and Juliet were members of the Church of England. They followed all the rules, observed the sacraments, attended the church services, but nothing calmed his soul. It was during this time, while he was recovering his health, that William had his conversion. He went from church member to actual Christian through the witness of a friend. After accepting Christ, William began expressing his faith in Christ by writing. He was not trained as a writer, nor was he particularly gifted. But he was inspired. He continued as a maritime insurance agent and as a husband to his Juliet and as a father to their eight children, but in his spare time he wrote. Poems mostly. Many of those he set to music. Not a musician himself, he used tunes from common music. Easy to sing as well as being catchy. Mostly songs that had a brief life. But this would change. 

        In the 1860s, Great Britain was ruled by Queen Victoria. The country was a somber place at that time, mostly because the Queen was somber. They were at war again, as was the custom in Great Britain, this time in Africa. The wars, the somber attitudes, the iron grip on religion by the Church of England all made for an attitude of constant tenseness. Hymns and religious poetry and writings reflected this crushing atmosphere. Into this came Dix, with his lighthearted writing and his hopeful poetry.

          William could not contain himself. His poetry had hope and reflection. There was joy. There was pleasure in His grace. In 1869 he wrote the piece he is most remembered for although it was not published until 1871. In it you can see the joy and wonder of a man who has escaped death and has embraced the thrill of salvation. The Birth, the Sacrifice (verse two) and the love. 

What Child is this who, laid to rest,
On Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.
Nails, spear shall pierce Him through,
The cross be borne for me, for you;
Hail, hail the Word made flesh,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

 

So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh,
Come peasant, king to own Him;
The King of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.
Raise, raise a song on high,
The virgin sings her lullaby;
Joy, joy for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

 

         A far cry from the heavy and cumbersome songs of the day. Most thought this new music would pass away. But the simplicity of the song, the earnest wonder of a new Christian and the desire to Raise, raise a song on high, makes “What Child is This?” one of the great songs of the season.