This Little Babe

One of the songs we sang at Lessons and Carols was This Little Babe from Benjamin Britten's A Ceremony of Carols. I love the words to this song. I have a tendency when thinking about Christmas, to envision cute little baby Jesus, all snuggled up with Mary and Joseph, starry skies, pretty angels, and little shepherd boys with their sheep. Rarely do I think about this baby Jesus as the one who came to battle with Satan. But the words to this song portray just that baby Jesus. Not a cuddly little newborn but a mighty warrior born to fight Satan (and win!) on our behalf.

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 breast stands for a shield;
His battering shot 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, His bulwark but a broken wall;
The crib His trench, haystalks His stakes; of shepherds 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 has 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.