This Babe to us now is born
Wonderful workes He hath wrought,
He would not lose what was forlorn
But again He hath us bought.
And thus it is
Forsooth i-wis
He asketh nothing but what is His.


“Man, why art thou unkind to me?
What would'st thou I did for thee more?
Give me thy true heart, I pray thee;
If thou be damned it rueth me sore.”
And thus it is
Forsooth i-wis
He asketh nothing but what is His.

“Man I love thee: whom lovest thou?
I pray thee turn to me again
And thou shalt be as welcome now
As he that never in sin was seen.”—
And thus it is
Forsooth i-wis
He asketh nothing but what is His.