Full Lyrics
Behold a silly tender babe in freezing winter night
In homely manger trembling lies, alas, a piteous sight!
The inns are full; no man will yield this little pilgrim bed,
But forced he is with silly beasts in crib to shroud his head.
This stable is a prince’s court, this crib his chair of state,
The beasts are parcel of his pomp, the wooden dish his plate.
The persons in that poor attire his royal liv’ries wear;
The Prince himself is come from heav’n: this pomp is prized there.
With joy approach, O Christian wight, do homage to thy king,
And highly praise his humble pomp, which He from Heav’n doth bring.
