Classic Poem

Was't not enough that God Himself became
Man like to me, and in all things the same,
Excepting sin alone; but He must be
Under the Law, and circumciz'd for me?
O extasie of love! which for my sake
The Son of God the Son of man did make;
Made Him, an infant, shed some drops of blood,
As the first-fruits to that more liberal flood
That flow'd in a ful tyde from every part,
His hands, His feete, His side, His head, His heart;
Whereof a soveraign balme He did compound
To heale my wounds, and make my sick soul sound.
What present, O my soul, hast thou to pay
Thy God? What New-yeer's gift this New-yeer's day?
Give Him thyself who gave Himself for thee;
A better offering there cannot be.
Do somewhat like Him too, and circumcise
The foreskin of thy heart; then sacrifice
Thy purer thoughts to Him, and now begin
This day to live to grace, to dye to sin.