And Art Thou Come, Blest Babe?

And art Thou come, blest Babe, and come to me?
Come down to teach me how to come to Thee?

Welcome, thrice welcome to my panting soul,
Which, as it loves, doth grieve that 'tis so foul.

The less 'tis fit for Thee come from above,
The more it needs Thee, and the more I love.
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