1 Infant holy, infant lowly,
For his bed a cattle stall;
Oxen lowing, pittle knowing
Christ the babe is Lord of all.
Swiftly 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.