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Annals of a Quiet Neighbourhood
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In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas! a piteous sight.
The inns are full, no man will yield
This little Pilgrim bed;
But forced He is with silly beasts
In crib to shroud His head.
Despise Him not for lying there,
First what He is inquire;
An orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.
Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish,
Nor beast that by Him feed;
Weigh not his mother’s poor attire,
Nor Joseph’s simple weed.
This stable is a Prince’s court,
The crib His chair of state;
The beasts are parcel of His pomp,
The wooden dish His plate.
The persons in that poor attire
His royal liveries wear;
The Prince himself is come from heaven—
This pomp is praised there.
With joy approach, O Christian wight!
Do homage to thy King;
And highly praise this humble pomp
Which He from heaven doth bring.
SOUTHWELL.
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THREE SHEPHERDS
1. Where is this blessed Babe
That hath made
All the world so full of joy
And expectation;
That glorious Boy
That crowns each nation
With a triumphant wreath of blessedness?
2. Where should He be but in the throng,
And among
His angel-ministers, that sing
And take wing
Just as may echo to His voice,
And rejoice,
When wing and tongue and all
May so procure their happiness?
3. But He hath other waiters now.
A poor cow,
An ox and mule stand and behold,
And wonder
That a stable should enfold
Him that can thunder.
Chorus. O what a gracious God have we!
How good! How great! Even as our misery.
Jeremy Taylor.
A SONG OF PRAISE FOR THE BIRTH OF CHRIST
Away, dark thoughts; awake, my joy;
Awake, my glory; sing;
Sing songs to celebrate the birth
Of Jacob’s God and King.
O happy night, that brought forth light,
Which makes the blind to see!
The day spring from on high came down
To cheer and visit thee.
The wakeful shepherds, near their flocks,
Were watchful for the morn;
But better news from heaven was brought,
Your Saviour Christ is born.
In Bethlem-town the infant lies,
Within a place obscure,
O little Bethlem, poor in walls,
But rich in furniture!
Since heaven is now come down to earth,
Hither the angels fly!
Hark, how the heavenly choir doth sing
Glory to God on High!
The news is spread, the church is glad,
SIMEON, o’ercome with joy,
Sings with the infant in his arms,
NOW LET THY SERVANT DIE.
Wise men from far beheld the star,
Which was their faithful guide,
Until it pointed forth the Babe,
And Him they glorified.
Do heaven and earth rejoice and sing—
Shall we our Christ deny?
Alas! a piteous sight.
The inns are full, no man will yield
This little Pilgrim bed;
But forced He is with silly beasts
In crib to shroud His head.
Despise Him not for lying there,
First what He is inquire;
An orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.
Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish,
Nor beast that by Him feed;
Weigh not his mother’s poor attire,
Nor Joseph’s simple weed.
This stable is a Prince’s court,
The crib His chair of state;
The beasts are parcel of His pomp,
The wooden dish His plate.
The persons in that poor attire
His royal liveries wear;
The Prince himself is come from heaven—
This pomp is praised there.
With joy approach, O Christian wight!
Do homage to thy King;
And highly praise this humble pomp
Which He from heaven doth bring.
SOUTHWELL.
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THREE SHEPHERDS
1. Where is this blessed Babe
That hath made
All the world so full of joy
And expectation;
That glorious Boy
That crowns each nation
With a triumphant wreath of blessedness?
2. Where should He be but in the throng,
And among
His angel-ministers, that sing
And take wing
Just as may echo to His voice,
And rejoice,
When wing and tongue and all
May so procure their happiness?
3. But He hath other waiters now.
A poor cow,
An ox and mule stand and behold,
And wonder
That a stable should enfold
Him that can thunder.
Chorus. O what a gracious God have we!
How good! How great! Even as our misery.
Jeremy Taylor.
A SONG OF PRAISE FOR THE BIRTH OF CHRIST
Away, dark thoughts; awake, my joy;
Awake, my glory; sing;
Sing songs to celebrate the birth
Of Jacob’s God and King.
O happy night, that brought forth light,
Which makes the blind to see!
The day spring from on high came down
To cheer and visit thee.
The wakeful shepherds, near their flocks,
Were watchful for the morn;
But better news from heaven was brought,
Your Saviour Christ is born.
In Bethlem-town the infant lies,
Within a place obscure,
O little Bethlem, poor in walls,
But rich in furniture!
Since heaven is now come down to earth,
Hither the angels fly!
Hark, how the heavenly choir doth sing
Glory to God on High!
The news is spread, the church is glad,
SIMEON, o’ercome with joy,
Sings with the infant in his arms,
NOW LET THY SERVANT DIE.
Wise men from far beheld the star,
Which was their faithful guide,
Until it pointed forth the Babe,
And Him they glorified.
Do heaven and earth rejoice and sing—
Shall we our Christ deny?
Другие электронные книги автора George MacDonald
Последний отзыв
очень хорошая книга для студентов и учителей