This Little Babe

Benjamin Britten wrote this fabulous text that strengthens me this Christmas like little else. Enjoy the Old English as a nod to Christmas past, but more, be blown away by the babe.

This Little Babe by Benjamin Britten

This little babe so few days old,

Is come to rival Satan's hold

All hell doth at his presence quake,

though he himself for cold do shake;

For in this weak unarmored 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, hay stalks 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 by thy guard.

If thou wilt foil thy

foes with joy, then

flit not from this

heavenly boy!

The Baby fights for us! God with you in the battle and beauty of Christmas,

~ Nancy