1 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,
Noels 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!