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To Him give praise,

And thank Him than,

And thank Him than.

William Cornish

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I sing of a maiden

That is makeless, [13]

King of all Kings

To her son she ches. [14]

He came all so still

Where his mother was,

As dew in April

That falleth on the grass.

He came all so still

To his mother's bower,

As dew in April

That falleth on the flower.

He came all so still

Where his mother lay,

As dew in April

That falleth on the spray.

Mother and maiden

Was never none but she;

Well may such a lady

God's mother be.

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Upon my lap my sovereign sits

And sucks upon my breast;

Meantime his love maintains my life

And gives my sense her rest.

Sing lullaby, my little boy,

Sing lullaby, mine only joy!

When thou hast taken thy repast,

Repose, my babe, on me;

So may thy mother and thy nurse

Thy cradle also be.

Sing lullaby, my little boy,

Sing lullaby, mine only joy!

I grieve that duty doth not work

All that my wishing would,