English

I.

The Prince of Peace is come,
And cloth'd himself in clay;
Whoever find him room,
He'll take their guilt away,
Ye souls distress
In him believe,
And you shall live
Forever blest.

II.

This is the slaughter'd Lamb,
Who freely spills his blood,
To bear the sinners flame,
And bring them home to GOD ;
Unbounded grace
To sinners giv'n,
And soon in heav'n
Immortal bliss.

III.

Sinners receive his love,

A SONG, alter'd .

I.

Stay, stay, O Sun! whose chearful Ray
Has drawn my Orra 's feet astray:
O! chase the Fogs — O! clear the Skies!
And guide my Orra , to my eyes .

II.

O! were I sure my Dear to view,
I'd climb the top of that tall Yew!
Aloft, in air , I'd quivering stand,
And round, and round, explore the land.

III.

Where, Orra M OOR ! where art thou stray'd?
What wood conceals my sleeping maid?
Torn by the thorns , enrag'd I'll tear

I have heard them in the night —
The cry of their fear,
Because there is no light,
Because they do not hear
Familiar sounds and feel the familiar arm,
And they awake alone.
Yet they have never known
Danger or harm.
What is their dread? —
This dark about their bed?
But they are so lately come
Out of the dark womb
Where they were safely kept.
That blackness was good;
And the silence of that solitude
Wherein they slept
Was kind.
Where did they find
Knowledge of death?

Are you awake? Do you hear the rain?
How rushingly it strikes upon the ground,
And on the roof, and the wet window-pane!
Sometimes I think it is a comfortable sound,
Making us feel how safe and snug we are:
Closing us off in this dark, away from the dark outside.
The rest of the world seems dim tonight, mysterious and far.
Oh, there is no world left! Only darkness, darkness stretching wide
And full of the blind rain's immeasurable fall!

How nothing must we seem unto this ancient thing!

Haste to Clarinda, and reveal
Whatever pains poor lovers feel;
When that is done, then tell the fair
That I endure much more for her.
Who'd truly know love's pow'r or smart,
Must view her eyes and read my heart.

What will you find
In the depths of the wind,
What does it hold?
Fold on fold on flowing fold —
Clasp it, and your fingers press
Only a soft emptiness;
Only air is in your hand.
Yet this nothing may command
The purposes of men and seas,
Ordering them with a mighty ease;
With that same, that ancient power
That was born in time's first hour,
In the beginning of change and days.
But never its strength delays,
Or grows old, or will weary or rest;
Nor the years diminish its wild invisible zest.

Here I was, my good masters, my name's Teddy Clinch,
My cattle are sound, and I drives to an inch;
From Hyde Park to White Chapel I well know the town,
And many's the time I've took up and set down:
In short, in the bills I'll be bound for't there's not
A young youth who, like Teddy, can tip the long trot.

II.

Oh the notions of life that I see from my box,
While faces of all kinds come about me in flocks:
The sot whom I drive home to sleep out the day,
The kind one who plies for a fare at the play;

I.

   See Jesus in a manger lies!
 Archangels gaze with sweet surprize,
  At their Creator's mortal birth;
 Hark! hark! the heav'nly arches ring,
When GOD their King, when GOD their King
  Appears among the sons of earth.

II.

 Angels descend, with joy proclaim
  To mortals his incarnate name,
And bids the world forget their fear;
 Lift up your eyes, O Adam's race,
  An act of grace, an act of grace
 By Jesus comes, O sinners hear.

III.

  Sinners behold your only friend,

When we are asleep, at rest and asleep,
Where do our thoughts and wishes keep?
Where is memory's dreaming-bed,
And where does love lay down her head,
And hope, and happiness, and sorrow?
Where do they go until to-morrow?
Do they sleep? Do they rest?
O crowding knowledge, close compressed
In the many-folded brain,
What ghostly bound, what exquisite chain
Holds you and binds you in till day?
Binds you fast, lest you drift away.

I leave thee, love! In vain hast thou
 The God of life implored;
My clinging soul is torn from thine,
 My faithful, my adored!
My last gift,—I have on it breathed
 In blessing and in prayer;
So lay it close, close to thy heart,
 This little lock of hair!

I know thou wilt think tenderly
 And lovingly on me,
Thou wilt forget my waywardness,
 When I am gone from thee;
Thou wilt remember all my love,
 Which made thee think me fair;
Thou wilt with many tears be-gem
 This little lock of hair!