In The Yule-Log Glow Volume Iv Part 8

There, when I came, whom found I but my dear-- My dearest Lord; expecting till the grief Of pleasures brought me to Him; ready there To be all pa.s.sengers' most sweet relief?

O Thou, whose glorious, yet contracted light, Wrapt in night's mantle, stole into a manger; Since my dark soul and brutish is Thy right, To man, of all beasts, be not Thou a stranger;

Furnish and deck my soul, that Thou may'st have A better lodging than a rock or grave.

The shepherds sing; and shall I silent be?

My G.o.d, no hymn for Thee?

My soul's a shepherd too; a flock it feeds Of thoughts and words and deeds; The pasture is Thy word, the stream Thy grace, Enriching every place.

Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers Outsing the daylight hours.

Then we will chide the sun for letting night Take up his place and right: We sing one common Lord; wherefore He should Himself the candle hold.

I will go searching till I find a sun Shall stay till we have done; A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly As frost-nipt suns look sadly, Then we will sing and shine all our own day, And one another pay.

His beams shall cheer my breast; and both so twine, Till ev'n his beams sing and my music shine.

_George Herbert._

NEW HEAVEN, NEW WAR.

Come to your heaven, you heavenly quires!

Earth hath the heaven of your desires; Remove your dwelling to your G.o.d, A stall is now His blest abode; Sith men their homage do deny, Come, angels, all their fault supply.

This little Babe, so few days old, Is come to rifle Satan's fold; All h.e.l.l doth at His presence quake, Though He himself for cold do shake; For in this weak, unarmed wise The gates of h.e.l.l He will surprise.

My soul, with Christ join thou in fight; Stick to the tents that He hath pight; Within His crib is surest ward, This little Babe will be thy guard; If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy, Then flit not from this heavenly Boy.

_Robert Southwell._

FOR CHRISTMAS DAY.

Rejoice, rejoice, with heart and voice!

In Christe's birth this day rejoice!

From Virgin's womb this day did spring The precious seed that only saved man; This day let man rejoice and sweetly sing, Since on this day salvation first began.

This day did Christ man's soul from death remove, With glorious saints to dwell in heaven above.

This day to man came pledge of perfect peace, This day to man came perfect unity, This day man's grief began for to surcease, This day did man receive a remedy For each offence and every deadly sin, With guilty heart that erst he wandered in.

In Christe's flock let love be surely placed, From Christe's flock let concord hate expel, Of Christe's flock let love be so embraced As we in Christ and Christ in us may dwell; Christ is the author of all unity, From whence proceedeth all felicity.

O sing unto this glittering, glorious king, O praise His name let every living thing; Let heart and voice, like bells of silver, ring The comfort that this day doth bring; Let lute, let shawm, with sound of sweet delight, The joy of Christe's birth this day recite.

_Francis Kinwelmersh, A.D. 1576._

SUNG TO THE KING IN THE PRESENCE AT WHITEHALL.

_Chor._--What sweeter music can we bring, Than a carol for to sing The birth of this our heavenly King?

Awake the voice! awake the string!

Heart, ear, and eye, and everything Awake! the while the active finger Runs divisions with the singer.

_From the flourish they come to the song._

Dark and dull night, fly hence away, And give the honor to this day, That sees December turn'd to May.

If we may ask the reason, say The why and wherefore all things here Seem like the spring-time of the year?

Why does the chilling winter's morn Smile like a field beset with corn?

Or smell like to a mead new-shorn, Thus on the sudden? Come and see The cause why things thus fragrant be: 'Tis He is born whose quickening birth Gives life and l.u.s.tre public mirth To heaven and the under-earth.

_Chor._--We see Him come, and know Him ours, Who with His sunshine and His showers Turns all the patient ground to flowers.

The darling of the world is come, And fit it is we find a room To welcome Him. The n.o.bler part Of all the house here is the heart.

_Chor._--Which we will give Him; and bequeath This holly and this ivy wreath, To do Him honor, who's our King, And Lord of all this revelling.

_Robert Herrick._

AND THEY LAID HIM IN A MANGER.

Happy crib, that wert alone To my G.o.d, bed, cradle, throne!

Whilst thy glorious vileness I View with divine fancy's eye, Sordid filth seems all the cost, State, and splendor, crowns do boast.

See heaven's sacred majesty Humbled beneath poverty; Swaddled up in homely rags On a bed of straw and flags!

He whose hands the heavens displayed, And the world's foundation laid, From the world's almost exiled, Of all ornaments despoiled.

Perfumes bathe Him not, new-born, Persian mantles not adorn; Nor do the rich roofs look bright With the jasper's orient light.

Where, O royal Infant, be Th' ensigns of Thy majesty; Thy Sire's equalizing state; And Thy sceptre that rules fate?

Where's Thy angel-guarded throne, Whence Thy laws Thou didst make known, Laws which heaven, earth, h.e.l.l, obeyed?

These, ah! these aside He laid; Would the emblem be--of pride By humility outvied?

_Sir Edward Sherburne._