There came upon a holy night
A holy, wondrous thing:
For Mary bore a newborn babe,
And sweetly she did sing.
And as she sang, three shining tears
Dropped down upon the boy:
A tear for wonder, a tear for woe,
A tear for perfect joy.
“How wondrously,” young Mary sang,
“This Child has come to me,
For from a virgin womb has sprung
The very Deity.
And Wonderful shall be his name:
For now the promise is not vain
That God with man shall dwell.”
“My son,” she sang, “how woefully
“I see an ancient tree,
And on its withered branches bare,
A serpent waits for thee.
And ah! A sword runs through my soul,
And all my heart is dread:
For he shall sorely bruise thy heel
Ere thou shalt crush his head.”
“My son,” she sang, “I see thy tree
Break into leaf and flower,
And bear a fragrant fruit more sweet
Than all in Eden’s bower.
And to thy tree from west and east
Come all the sons of Eve,
From exile into paradise
That they may eat and live.”
“O magnify the Lord, my soul,
And taste His mercies sure:
For in this very Tree of Life
Thy life shall aye endure.
Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh,
Thou promised woman’s son:
In thee are Eve and Mary blessed
While all the ages run.”