Infant holy, Infant lowly, for His bed a cattle stall;
Oxen lowing, little knowing, Christ the Babe is Lord of all.
Swift are winging angels singing, noels ringing, tidings bringing:
Christ the Babe is Lord of all.
Flocks were sleeping, shepherds keeping vigil till the morning new
Saw the glory, heard the story, tidings of a Gospel true.
Thus rejoicing, free from sorrow, praises voicing, greet the morrow:
Christ the Babe was born for you.
--Traditional Polish carol, translated to English by Edith M. Reed, 1921
Read the last two lines again, and imagine greeting the morrow—tomorrow—with that attitude. Jesus was born for You! God cares so much about you that He gave His son for You!