A child for us is born this day,
The an­gels’ king is He;
The Lord who ov­er all has sway,
Nursed here vouch­safes to be.

In man­ger where the ass­es fed
The Child di­vine is laid;
Whom they as Christ ac­know­ledg­èd,
As King and Lord ob­eyed.

With joy the an­gels fill­èd were,
And with the Lord do sing;
Glory to God above the sphere
In tune­ful notes does ring.

Then Her­od, who with fear was seized,
His en­vy great dis­plays;
With slaugh­tered babes must be ap­peased,
Whose gore his fear al­lays.

Thou who wast born as on this day
Of vir­gin Ma­ry pure,
Lead and con­duct us in the way
To joys which e’er en­dure.