Author: Polish, Trans. Edith M G Reed 1885–1933
INFANT HOLY,
infant lowly,
for his bed a cattle stall;
oxen lowing,
little knowing
Christ the babe is Lord of all.
Swift are winging
angels singing,
nowells ringing,
tidings bringing:
Christ the babe is Lord of all;
Christ the babe is Lord of all!
2 Flocks were sleeping,
shepherds keeping
vigil till the morning new
saw the glory,
heard the story—-
tidings of a gospel true.
Thus rejoicing,
free from sorrow,
praises voicing,
greet the morrow:
Christ the babe was born for you;
Christ the babe was born for you!
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