December

How small, how nestling dost thou lie
Within Thy manger, on a trestle;
What lacketh then in me, that I
Cannot like Thee, so small
and still and softly nestle?
So will I then
Abase me to the state of men,
Which Thou for love of me hast ta'en,
That I the heavenly may attain.

Thy word to me is that
I shall be as Thou art:
First child, then man, the like unto
Thy Godly grace.
From far Thou showest me,
Thou settest in my heart,
How nought can pleasure me
save in Thy perfect place.
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