This Little Babe Songtext
von American Boychoir

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 breasts stands for a shield;
His battering shots 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 shepards 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 heavenly Boy