The Christmas Child hath spread His feast.
These gave their bed and eke their board
To be a cradle for their Lord.
Their honey-breath, their tears all mild,
Warmed in the cold the new-born Child.
These His adorers were before
The Kings and Shepherds thronged the door.
And where no angels knelt there kneeled
The innocent creatures of the field.
O simple ones, much honourèd;