Merry Christmas!

                                                        Ann Macbeth, The Nativity here


Complete Mass readings in Scots for the Feast of the Nativity of the Lord here



Followis ane sang of the birth of Christ, with the tune of Baw Lula Low:


I come from heuin to tell
The best nowellis that euer befell,
To zow thir tythingis trew I bring,
And I will of them say and sing.

This day, to zow, is borne ane childe 
Of Marie meik, and Virgin milde.
That blissit bairne bening and kynde,
Sall zow reioyis, baith hart and mynde.

It is the Lord, Christ, God and Man,
He will do for zow quhat he can :
Him self zour Sauiour will be,
Fra sin and hell, to mak zow fre.

He is zour rycht Saluatioun,
From euerlasting Dampnatioun :
That ze may Ring in gloir and blis,
For euer mair in heuin with his.

Ze sail him find, but mark or wying,
Full sempill in ane Cribe lying:
Sa lyis he quhilk zow hes wrocht.
And all this warld maid of nocht.

Lat vs reioyis and be blyith
And with the Hyrdis go full swyith,
And se quhat God of his grace hes done,
Throw Christ to bring vs to his throne.

My Saull and lyfe stand up and se
Quha lyis in ane Cribbe of tre:
Quhat Babe is that, sa gude and fair ?
It is Christ, Goddis Sone and air.

Welcome now, gracious God of mycht,
To sinnaris vyle, pure and vnrycht.
Thow come to saif vs from distres.
How can we thank thy gentilnes!

O God that maid all Creature,
How art thow now becumit sa pure,
That on the hay and stray will ly,
Amang the Assis, Oxin and Ky?

And war the warld ten tymes sa wyde,
Cled ouer with gold, and stanis of pryde,
Unworthie it war, zit to thé,
Under thy feit ane stule to be.

The Sylk and Sandell thé to eis,
Ar hay, and sempill sweilling clais,
Quharin thow gloris greitest King,
As thow in heuin war in thy Ring.

Thow tuke sic panis temporall,
To mak me ryche perpetuall.
For all this warldis welth and gude,
Can na thing ryche thy celsitude.

O my deir hart, zung Jesus sweit,
Prepair thy creddill in my Spreit,
And I sall rock thé  in my hart,
And neuer mair fra thé depart.

Bot I sall pryse thé euer moir,
With sangis sweit vnto thy gloir:
The kneis of my hart sall I bow,
And sing that rycht Balulalow.

Gloir be to God Eternallie,
Quhilk gaif his onlie Sone for me:
The angellis Joyis for to heir,
The gracious gift of this new Zeir.

[From The Gude and Godlie Ballatis [1567] John Wedderburn et al., Alexander Ferrier (ed.) (1897), pp.49-51 here]





                                                    MERRY CHRISTMAS!