His Birth
L.M.
1
Give heed, my heart, lift up thine eyes:
Who is it in yon manger lies?
Who is this Child so young and fair?
The blessed Christ Child lieth there.
2
Ah, Lord, who hast created all,
How hast Thou made Thee weak and small,
That Thou must choose Thy infant bed
Where ass and ox but lately fed!
3
Were earth a thousand times as fair,
Beset with gold and jewels rare,
She yet were far too poor to be
A narrow cradle, Lord, for Thee.
4
Ah, dearest Jesus, holy Child,
Make Thee a bed, soft, undefiled,
Within my heart, that it may be
A quiet chamber kept for Thee.
5
My heart for very joy doth leap,
My lips no more their silence keep;
Itoo must sing with joyful tongue
That sweetest ancient cradle-song:
6
Glory to God in highest heaven,
Who unto man His Son hath given;
While angels sing with pious mirth
A glad new year to all the earth.
