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.
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.