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.