This Little Babe

Our pastor introduced us to this hymn last Christmas, though the tune we use is much more conducive to congregational singing than the one in the video!  The lyrics were penned by Robert Southwell in the 16th century, while the most popular arrangement was not composed until the 20th century as part of Benjamin Britten's Ceremony of Carols.  I have posted the lyrics underneath the video as they are hard to understand.

This little babe so few days old

Is come to rifle Satan's fold;

All hell doth at his presence quake,

Though he himself for cold do shake;

For in this weak unarmed wise

The gates of hell he will surprise!

With tears he fights and wins the field,

His naked breast stands for a shield.

His battering shot are babish cries,

His arrows looks of weeping eyes;

His martial ensigns Cold and Need,

And feeble flesh his warrior's steed.

His camp is pitched in a stall,

His bulwark but a broken wall;

The crib his trench, haystalks his stakes

Of shepherds he his muster makes.

And thus as sure his foe to wound,

The angels' trumps alarum sound.

My soul with Christ join thou in fight;

Stick to the tents that he hath pight;

Within his crib is surest ward;

This little babe will be thy guard.

If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy,

Then flit not from this heav'nly boy.