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HOLY CHILD

Ah, dearest Jesus, holy Child,

Make thee a bed, soft, undefiled,

Within my heart, that it may be

A quiet chamber kept for Thee.

My heart for very joy doth leap,

My lips no more can silence keep,

I too must sing, with joyful tongue,

That sweetest ancient cradle song,

Glory to God in highest heaven,

Who unto man His Son hath given

While angels sing with pious mirth.

A glad new year to all the earth.

Martin Luther.

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