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.

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.