3 Carol-Anthems: No. 3, Here Is The Little Door

Here is the little door
Lift up the latch, oh lift!
We need not wander more
But enter with our gift
Our gift of finest gold
Gold that was never bought nor sold
Myrrh to be strewn about his bedIncense in clouds about His head
All for the child that stirs not in His sleep
But holy slumber holds with ass and sheep
Bend low about His bed
For each He has a gift
See how His eyes awake
Lift up your hands, O lift!
For gold, He gives a keen—edged sword
(Defend with it thy little Lord!)
For incense, smoke of battle red
Myrrh for the honoured happy dead
Gifts for His children, terrible and sweet
Touched by such tiny hands
And Oh such tiny feet."