O Gather
O gather sweet flowers
For the young maiden there,
And weave them in garlands
To put in her hair:
And embrace the young man
So shy and sincere
For their future wedding.
O gather fresh straw
To give him soft rest,
And moss for a pillow
And milk from the breast
And wrap him in sheepskin
That the shepherds have dressed
To greet his coming.
O gather sharp thorns
For the criminal's head
And make him a crown
For the king that he said
He was but in five hours
This king will be dead
Ready for entombing.
O gather bright stars
To embellish his throne
And that of the maiden
Who bore her sweet son:
And round them we gather
Our hearts all in one
Joyful at his rising.