Listen, Lordings, unto Me

Listen

lord­ings

un­to me

A tale I will you tell;

Which

as on this night of glee

In Da­vid’s town be­fell.

Joseph came from Na­za­reth

With Ma­ry that sweet maid:

Weary they were

nigh to death;

And for a lodg­ing prayed.

Sing high

sing high

sing low

sing low.

Sing high

sing low

sing to and fro

Go tell it out with speed

Cry out and shout all round about

That Christ is born in­deed.

In the inn they found no room;

A scan­ty bed they made:

Soon a ba­be from Ma­ry’s womb

Was in the man­ger laid.

Forth He came as light through glass:

He came to save us all.

In the sta­ble ox and ass

Before their mak­er fall.

Shepherds lay afield that night

To keep the sil­ly sheep

Hosts of an­gels in their sight

Came down from Heav’n’s high steep.

Tidings! Tid­ings! un­to you:

To you a child is born

Purer than the drops of dew

And bright­er than the morn.

Onward then the an­gels sped

The shep­herds on­ward went

God was in His man­ger bed

In wor­ship low they bent.

In the morn­ing see ye mind

My mas­ters one and all

At the al­tar Him to find

Who lay with­in the stall.