Ah, dear­est Je­sus, ho­ly Child,
Make Thee a bed, soft, un­de­filed
Within my heart, that it may be
A qui­et cham­ber kept for Thee.

My heart for ve­ry joy doth leap,
My lips no more can si­lence keep;
I, too, must sing with joy­ful tongue
That sweet­est an­cient cra­dle song.

Glory to God in high­est Hea­ven,
Who un­to man His Son hath giv­en;
While an­gels sing with ten­der mirth,
A glad new year to all the earth.