Another New-Yeeres Gift, or Song for the Circumcision

Hence, hence prophane, and none appeare
With any thing unhallowed, here:
No jot of Leven must be found
Conceal'd in this most holy Ground:

What is corrupt, or sowr'd with sin,
Leave that without, then enter in;
Chor. But let no Christmas mirth begin
Before ye purge, and circumcise
Your hearts, and hands, lips, eares, and eyes.

Then, like a perfum'd Altar, see
That all things sweet, and clean may be:
For, here's a Babe, that (like a Bride)
Will blush to death, if ought be spi'd
Ill-scenting, or unpurifi'd.

Chor. The room is cens'd: help, help t'invoke
Heaven to come down, the while we choke
The Temple, with a cloud of smoke.

Come then, and gently touch the Birth
Of Him, who's Lord of Heav'n and Earth;

And softly handle Him: y'ad need,
Because the prettie Babe do's bleed.
Poore-pittied Child! who from Thy Stall
Bring'st, in Thy Blood, a Balm, that shall
Be the best New-yeares Gift to all.

Let's blesse the Babe: And, as we sing
His praise; so let us blesse the King:
Chor. Long may He live, till He hath told
His New-yeeres trebled to His old:
And, when that's done, to re-aspire
A new-borne Phaenix from His own chast fire.
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