I

’Tis Holy Night in the hamlet olden, Darkness lowers her curtain down; With fingers of sleep the eyes are holden, Naught is awake in the dreaming town. Shineth one light in a cottage window, Set for the Christ-child’s tender feet, Lest that they stumble, lest that they falter, Passing to-night thro’ the silent street.

Shine, sweet light, from thy humble dwelling, Brightly beam on the toilsome way; Long must he journey--the darling Christ-child-- Far and far has he still to stray.