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The American Boychoir
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This Little Babe
This little babe So few days old Is come to rifle Satan's fold
All hell doth at His presence quake Though he himself For cold do shake; For in this weak unarmed wise The gates of Hell he will surprise
With tears he fights And wins the field His naked breasts stands for a shield; His battering shots are babish cries His arrows looks of weeping eyes His martial ensigns Cold and Need And feeble flesh his warrior's steed
His camp is pitched in a stall Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com His bulwark but a broken wall; The crib his trench Haystalks his stakes; Of shepards he his muster makes; And thus as sure his foe to wound The angels' trumps alarum sound
My soul with Christ Join thou in fight; Stick to the tents That he hath pight Within his crib Is surest ward; This little babe Will be thy guard
If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy Then flit not from this heavenly Boy
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