3 Carol-Anthems: No. 1, Here Is the Little Door

Here is the little door, lift up the latch, O lift!

We need not wander more but enter with our gift;

Our gift of finest gold,

Gold that was never bought nor sold;

Myrrh to be strewn about his bed;

Incense in clouds about his head;

All for the Child that stirs not in his sleep,

But holy slumber holds with ass and sheep.

Bend low about his bed, for each he has a gift;

See how his eyes awake, lift up your hands, O lift!

For gold, he gives a keen-edged sword

(Defend with it thy little Lord!)

For incense, smoke of battle red

Myrrh for the honoured happy dead;

Gifts for his children, terrible and sweet,

Touched by such tiny hands and O such tiny feet.