C H R I S T M A S 2 0 1 0
Christmas is Coming
Christmas is Coming,
The Goose is getting Fat!
Please put a penny in the Old Man's Hat.
If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do;
And if you haven't got a ha'penny
Then God Bless You!
—Traditional English Carol
Lo, How a Rose e'er Blooming
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Es ist ein' Ros' entsprungen,
aus einer Wurzel zart.
Wie uns die Alten sungen,
von Jesse war die Art.
Und hat ein Blüm'lein 'bracht;
mitten im kalten Winter,
wohl zu der halben Nacht.
Das Röslein, das ich meine,
davon Jesaia sagt:
Maria ist's, die Reine,
die uns das Blüm'lein bracht'.
Aus Gottes ew'gem Rat,
Hat sie ein Kindlein g'boren,
Bleibend ein reine Magd.
Das Blümelein, so kleine,
das duftet uns so süß;
mit seinem hellen Scheine
vertreibt's die Finsternis.
Wahr'r Mensch und wahrer Gott!
Hilft uns aus allem Leide,
rettet von Sünd' und Tod.
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Lo, how a rose e'er blooming,
From tender stem hath sprung.
Of Jesse's lineage coming,
As men of old have sung;
It came, a flow'ret bright,
Amid the cold of winter,
When halfspent was the night.
Isaiah 'twas foretold it,
The Rose I have in mind,
With Mary we behold it,
The virgin mother kind;
To show God's love aright,
She bore to men a Savior,
When halfspent was the night.
O Flower, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air,
Dispel with glorious splendour
The darkness everywhere;
True man, yet very God,
From Sin and death now save us,
And share our every load.
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Anonymous (German, c.1590)
Music arranged by Michael Praetorious, 1609
English translation by Theodore Baker, 1894
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Coventry Carol
Lully, lullay, Thou little tiny Child,
Bye, bye, lully, lullay.
Lullay, Thou little tiny Child,
Bye, bye, lully, lullay.
O sisters, too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day;
This poor Youngling for whom we sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.
Herod the king, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day;
His men of might, in his own sight,
All children young, to slay.
Then woe is me, poor Child, for Thee,
And ever mourn and say;
For Thy parting, nor say nor sing,
By, by, lully, lullay.
–Anonymous (c.1534)
from the English Mystery play:
The Pageant of the Shearmen and the Tailors
from Hymn on the Morning of Christ's Nativity
But peacefull was the night
Wherein the Prince of light
His reign of peace upon the earth began:
The Windes with wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kist,
Whispering new joyes to the milde Oceán,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave,
The Stars with deep amaze
Stand fixt in stedfast gaze,
. . . .
—John Milton (1608-1674)
That Holy Thing
They all were looking for a king
To slay their foes and lift them high;
Thou cam'st, a little baby thing
That made a woman cry.
O Son of Man, to right my lot
Naught but Thy presence can avail;
Yet on the road Thy wheels are not,
Nor on the sea Thy sail!
My how or when Thou wilt not heed,
But come down Thine own secret stair,
That Thou mayst answer all my need—
Yea, every bygone prayer.
—George MacDonald (1823-1905)
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