Be Still, My Blessed Babe Lyrics

Lulla, la lulla, lulla lullaby,
My sweet little babie, what meanest thou to cry?

1. Bee still, my blessed babe, though cause thou hast to mourne,
Whose bloud most innocent the cruell king hath sworne:
And lo, alas, behold, what slaughter he doth make,
Shedding the blood of infants all, sweet Saviour, for thy sake:
A king is bourne, they say, which king this king would kill,
Oh woe, and woeful heauy day, when wretches haue their will.

Lulla, la lulla, lulla lullaby,
My sweet little babie, what meanest thou to cry?

2. Three kings this king of kings to see, are come from farre,
To each unknowen, with offerings great, by guiding of a starre:
And shepheards heard the song, which angells bright did sing,
Giuing all glory vnto God, for comming of this king,
Which must be made away, King Herod would him kill.
Oh woe, and woful heauie day, when wretches have their will.

Lulla, la lulla, lulla lullaby,
My sweet little babie, what meanest thou to cry?

3. Loe, my little babe, bee still, lament no more,
From furie shalt thou step aside, help have wee still in store;
We heauenly warnings have, some other soyle to seeke,
From death must flie the lord of life, as lamb both mild and meeke:
Thus must my babe obey the king that would him kill,
Oh woe, and wofull heauie day, when wretches haue their will.

Lulla, la lulla, lulla lullaby,
My sweet little babie, what meanest thou to cry?

4. But thou shalt liue and reigne, as Sibilles have foresayd,
As all the prophets prophesie, whose mother, yet a maide,
And perfect virgin pure, with her brestes shall vpbreede
Both God and man that all hath made, the sonne of heauenly seede:
Whom caytiues none can traye, whom tyrants none can kill,
Oh ioy, and ioyfull happie day, when wretches want their will.