Infant Holy, Infant Lowly

1Infant 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.

2Flocks were sleeping, shepherds keeping
Vigil till the morning new;
Saw the glory, heard the story,
Tidings of the 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.