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,
nowells ringing, tidings bringing:
Christ the child is Lord of all.
Christ the child 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 child was born for you.
Christ the child was born for you.