Childling of a Maiden Bright

Childling of a maid­en bright

Life to­day hath brought to light;

And hath put the prince of night

With his flock of fiends to flight:

Chris­tus na­tus ho­die.

Whoso aught hath done amiss

And it rue him sore for this

Mary’s Babe will shrive iwis

Gentle as a Lamb He is:

Miserere

Do­mi­ne.

He at Beth­le­hem was born

Salem gave Him crown of thorn

Life of want and death of scorn—

All for love of man for­lorn.

Ergo be­ne­di­ci­te.

On this In­fant may we call

Born for man in ox­en stall;

He vouch­safes us bliss with­al

In His ev­er­last­ing hall.

Cum Ma­ria Vir­gi­ne.