"What hath man done that man shall not undo,'
Since God to him is grown so near a kin?
Did his foe slay him? He shall slay his foe.
Hath he lost all? He all again shall win.
Is sin his master? He shall master sin.
Too hardy soul with sin the field to try,
The only way to conquer was to fly;
But thus long Death hath lived, and now Death's self shall die.
"He is a path, if any be misled;
He is a robe, if any naked be;
If any chance to hunger, He is bread;
If any be a bondman, He is free;
If any be but weak, how strong is He:
To dead men life He is, to sick men health,
To blind men sight, and to the needy wealth
A pleasure without loss, a treasure without stealth.
"Who can forget, never to be forgot,
The time that all the world in slumber lies,
When, like the stars, the singing angels shot
To earth, and heaven awaked all his eyes
To see another Sun at midnight rise?
On earth was never sight of pareil fame,
For God before man like himself did frame,
But God Himself now like a mortal man became.
"A child He was and had not learned to speak
That with His Word the world before did make;
His mother's arms Him bore, He was so weak
That with one hand the vaults of heaven could shake.
See how small room my infant Lord doth take,
Whom all the world is not enough to hold.
Who of His years or of His age hath told?
Never such age so young, never a child so old.
"And yet but newly He was infanted,
And yet already He was sought to die;
Yet scarcely born, already banished,
Not able yet to go, and forced to fly;
But scarcely fled away when by and by
The tyrant's sword with blood is all defiled,
And Rachel, for her sons with fury wild,
Cries, "O thou cruel king" and "O my sweetest child."
"Egypt his nurse became, where Nilus springs,
Who straight to entertain the rising sun
The hasty harvest in his bosom brings;
But now for drieth the fields were all undone,
And now with waters all is overrun,
So fast the Cynthian mountains poured their snow
When once they felt the sun so near them glow
That Nilus Egypt lost, and to a sea did grow.
"The angels carolled loud their song of peace;
The cursed oracles were strucken dumb;
To see their Shepherd the poor shepherds press;
To see their King the kingly sophies come;
And them to guide unto his Master's home
A star comes dancing up the orient,
That springs for joy over the strawy tent,
Where gold, to make their Prince a crown, they all present.
"Young John, glad child, before he could be born
Leapt in the womb, his joy to prophesy;
Old Anna, though with age all spent and worn,
Proclaims her Saviour to posterity;
And Simeon fast his dying notes doth ply.
O how the blessed souls about him trace:
It is the fire of heaven thou dost embrace.
Sing, Simeon, sing! sing, Simeon, sing apace!'
With that the mighty thunder dropped away
From God's unwary arm, now milder grown
And melted into tears, as if to pray
For pardon and for pity it had known,
That should have been for sacred vengeance thrown.
Thereto the armies angelic devowed
Their former rage, and all to Mercy bowed;
Their broken weapons at her feet they gladly strowed.
Bring, bring, ye Graces, all your silver flaskets,
Painted with every choicest flower that grows,
That I may soon unflower your fragrant baskets
To strow the fields with odours where He goes;
Let whatsoe'er He treads on be a rose.
So down she let her eyelids fall, to shine
Upon the rivers of bright Palestine,
Whose woods drop honey, and her rivers skip with wine.
Since God to him is grown so near a kin?
Did his foe slay him? He shall slay his foe.
Hath he lost all? He all again shall win.
Is sin his master? He shall master sin.
Too hardy soul with sin the field to try,
The only way to conquer was to fly;
But thus long Death hath lived, and now Death's self shall die.
"He is a path, if any be misled;
He is a robe, if any naked be;
If any chance to hunger, He is bread;
If any be a bondman, He is free;
If any be but weak, how strong is He:
To dead men life He is, to sick men health,
To blind men sight, and to the needy wealth
A pleasure without loss, a treasure without stealth.
"Who can forget, never to be forgot,
The time that all the world in slumber lies,
When, like the stars, the singing angels shot
To earth, and heaven awaked all his eyes
To see another Sun at midnight rise?
On earth was never sight of pareil fame,
For God before man like himself did frame,
But God Himself now like a mortal man became.
"A child He was and had not learned to speak
That with His Word the world before did make;
His mother's arms Him bore, He was so weak
That with one hand the vaults of heaven could shake.
See how small room my infant Lord doth take,
Whom all the world is not enough to hold.
Who of His years or of His age hath told?
Never such age so young, never a child so old.
"And yet but newly He was infanted,
And yet already He was sought to die;
Yet scarcely born, already banished,
Not able yet to go, and forced to fly;
But scarcely fled away when by and by
The tyrant's sword with blood is all defiled,
And Rachel, for her sons with fury wild,
Cries, "O thou cruel king" and "O my sweetest child."
"Egypt his nurse became, where Nilus springs,
Who straight to entertain the rising sun
The hasty harvest in his bosom brings;
But now for drieth the fields were all undone,
And now with waters all is overrun,
So fast the Cynthian mountains poured their snow
When once they felt the sun so near them glow
That Nilus Egypt lost, and to a sea did grow.
"The angels carolled loud their song of peace;
The cursed oracles were strucken dumb;
To see their Shepherd the poor shepherds press;
To see their King the kingly sophies come;
And them to guide unto his Master's home
A star comes dancing up the orient,
That springs for joy over the strawy tent,
Where gold, to make their Prince a crown, they all present.
"Young John, glad child, before he could be born
Leapt in the womb, his joy to prophesy;
Old Anna, though with age all spent and worn,
Proclaims her Saviour to posterity;
And Simeon fast his dying notes doth ply.
O how the blessed souls about him trace:
It is the fire of heaven thou dost embrace.
Sing, Simeon, sing! sing, Simeon, sing apace!'
With that the mighty thunder dropped away
From God's unwary arm, now milder grown
And melted into tears, as if to pray
For pardon and for pity it had known,
That should have been for sacred vengeance thrown.
Thereto the armies angelic devowed
Their former rage, and all to Mercy bowed;
Their broken weapons at her feet they gladly strowed.
Bring, bring, ye Graces, all your silver flaskets,
Painted with every choicest flower that grows,
That I may soon unflower your fragrant baskets
To strow the fields with odours where He goes;
Let whatsoe'er He treads on be a rose.
So down she let her eyelids fall, to shine
Upon the rivers of bright Palestine,
Whose woods drop honey, and her rivers skip with wine.