Page:The seven great hymns of the mediaeval church - 1902.djvu/151

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Who is he, that fight who beareth,

Nor Chrit's mother's olace hareth

In her boom as He lay:

Who is he that would not render

Tend'ret love for love o tender,

Love, with that dear babe at play?

For the trepafs of her nation

She with oxen aw His tation

Subjected to cold and woe;

Saw her weetet offspring's wailing,

Wife men Him with worhip hailing,

In the table, mean and low.

Jeus lying in the manger,

Heavenly armies fang the tranger,

In the great joy-bearing part;

Stood the old man with the maiden,

No words peaking, only laden

With this wonder in their heart.