The grocery store has relegated their Christmas stuff to a corner at huge discounts. They don't care about the visual beauty of their displays. Ornaments are scattered hodge-podge, the boxes of Christmas lights are askew on the shelf, and the Christmas candy sits unceremoniously next to the Hannah Montana doll.
It doesn't bother me, for this is not what Christmas is anyway. Just as this hymn title is a study in contrasts, so is our Lord. It's about the Baby Who came to die. The Baby, wrapped in cloths, foreshadowing His inevitable purpose. The Son of God, placed in a feeding trough; He, Who is the bread of life.
The link below takes you to an accompaniment of this hymn, but unfortunately it doesn't accurately capture the correct harmony. As written, the soprano and alto parts "clash" at least once in every line of this hymn. It's that sound that makes you think, "Is that the right note?" But, when you look at the part, it is correct. The dissonance builds tension, and then is resolved to a chord that sounds right. Isn't this just what our Lord did? He built tension, He took everyone by surprise. Then, He resolved the ultimate tension between God and Satan. Between God and us. Between God and me.
Infant Holy, Infant Lowly
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.
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