CHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE

 CHRYSTMASSE OF OLDE

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,

Wherever you may be, --

God rst you all in fielde or hall,

Or on ye stormy sea;

For on this morn oure Chryst is born

That saveth you and me.

Last night ye shepherds in ye east

Saw many a wondrous thing;

Ye sky last night flamed passing bright

Whiles that ye stars did sing,

And angels came to bless ye name

Of Jesus Chryst, oure Kyng.

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,

Faring where'er you may;

In noblesse court do thou no sport,

In tournament no playe,

In paynim lands hold thou thy hands

From bloudy works this daye.

But thinking on ye gentil Lord

That died upon ye tree,

Let troublings cease and deeds of peace

Abound in Chrystantie;

For on this morn ye Chryst is born

That saveth you and me.

by Eugene Field