Muckle meek, barn-born, our Maker,

God among us, heaven’s loss

and Mary, our Theotokos.*

Infinite ,Your tiny form;

Midst lowing animals you’re born.

God is fit for humble birth

by worldly measure, nothing worth

Keep us on the lowly way

simplicity in all we say

so we may enter Jesus’ place

and, kneeling, see God face to face.