A Hymn for the Epiphany Time is too narrow for Thy year, Nor makes the whole world Thy half-sphere. Therefore, to Thee, and Thine auspicious ray, (Dread sweet!), lo thus, At least by us, The delegated eye of day, Does first his sceptre, then himself, in solemn tribute pay: Thus he undresses His sacred unshorn tresses; At thy adored feet thus he lays down, To which he now has no pretence; For being show'd by this day's light, how far Pointing us home to our own Sun, RICHARD CRASHAW 44. HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS DAY Ist. [Being a dialogue between three shepherds.] W HERE is this blessed Babe That hath made All the world so full of joy And expectation; That glorious Boy That crowns each nation With a triumphant wreath of blessedness? 2nd. Where should He be but in the throng, And among His angel ministers, that sing And take wing Just as may echo to His voice, When wing and tongue and all 3rd. But He hath other waiters now: A poor cow, An ox and mule, stand and behold, And wonder That a stable should enfold Him that can thunder. Chorus.- what a gracious God have we, How good! how great! even as our misery. JEREMY TAYLOR 45. HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS DAY WAKE, my soul, and come away: AWA Put on thy best array; Lest if thou longer stay Thou lose some minutes of so blest a day. Go run, And bid good-morrow to the sun; To Capricorn, And that great morn Whose story none can tell But He whose every word's a miracle. To-day Almightiness grew weak; The Word itself was mute and could not speak. That Jacob's star which made the sun To dazzle if he durst look on, Now mantled o'er in Bethlehem's night, To whom both poles are one, Hymn for Christmas Day 46. Chorus. Then let our praises emulate and vie Since He's exiled from skies That we might rise,— From low estate of men Let's sing Him up again ! Each man wind up his heart To bear a part In that angelic choir and show His glory high as He was low. Let's sing towards men good-will and charity, Peace upon earth, glory to God on high! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! CHRISTMAS DAY WONDER'S birthday, JEREMY TAYLOR WONDER'S Which mak'st December's face Fairer than May, And bidst the spring give place To fresher winter, in whose hardy snow A flower more sweet than the whole spring doth grow. For winter now A virgin plant espies, Which all his snow Could never equalize : More white, more chaste is she, yet fertile too, The King of Miracles would have it so. Christmas Day For he it was Who would be born below, Amongst poor us to grow. Himself he planted in our dust that he Himself he set And by that art was sure A birth all clean and pure: Proud flesh corrupts and stains the seed we sow; He, planted by his Spirit, will spotless grow. Virginity His Father wanteth not, So great a Son hath got; Upon the white Church-wall oft-times have I Observ'd the light, Which darting from the sky Pierc'd the unbroken glass and with it brought The orient colours in the window wrought. |