Awake, glad heart! get up and sing!
It is the birth-day of thy King.
The Sun doth shake
Light from his locks, and all the way
Breathing perfumes, doth spice the day.
Awake, awake! hark how th’ wood rings;
Winds whisper, and the busy springs
A concert make;
Man is their high-priest, and should rise
To offer up the sacrifice.
I would I were some bird, or star,
I would I had in my best part
Sweet Jesu! will then. Let no more