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.