Chrystmasse of Olde, by Eugene Field

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Chrystmasse of Olde
by Eugene Field (1850-1895)

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,
    Wherever you may be,---
God rest you all in fielde or hall,
    Or on ye stormy sea;
For on this morn oure Chryst is born
    That saveth you and me.

Last night ye shepherds in ye east
   Saw many a wondrous thing;
Ye sky last night flamed passing bright
   Whiles that ye stars did sing,
And angels came to bless ye name
   Of Jesus Chryst, oure Kyng.

God rest you, Chrysten gentil men,
   Faring where'er you may;
In noblesse court do thou no sport,
   In tournament no playe,
In paynim lands hold thou thy hands
   From bloudy works this daye.

But thinking on ye gentil Lord
   That died upon ye tree,
Let troublings cease and deeds of peace
   Abound in Chrystantie;
For on this morn ye Chryst is born
   That saveth you and me.

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