Yet if His Majesty our Sovereign Lord 'Look to the presence: are the carpets spread, The daïs o'er the head,

The cushions in the chairs,

And all the candles lighted on the stairs?
Perfume the chambers, and in any case

Let each man give attendance in his place.'

Thus if the king were coming would we do,
And 'twere good reason too;

For 'tis a duteous thing

To show all honour to an earthly king,
And after all our travail and our cost,
So he be pleased, to think no labour lost.

But at the coming of the King of heaven,
All's set at six and seven.
We wallow in our sin,

Christ cannot find a chamber in the inn,
We entertain Him always like a stranger,
And as at first still lodge Him in the manger.

UNKNOWN

55. AND ART THOU COME, BLEST BABE?

ND art Thou come, blest Babe, and come to me?

AND

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.

UNKNOWN

56. SONG OF THE ANGELS AT THE

NATIVITY

WHILE shepherds watch'd their flocks by night,

All seated on the ground,

The Angel of the Lord came down,
And glory shone around.

'Fear not,' said he (for mighty dread
Had seized their troubled mind);
"Glad tidings of great joy I bring
To you and all mankind.

To you in David's town this day
Is born of David's line

The Saviour, who is Christ the Lord;

And this shall be the sign :

'The heavenly Babe you there shall find
To human view display'd,

All meanly wrapt in swathing-bands,
And in a manger laid.'

Thus spake the seraph; and forthwith
Appear'd a shining throng
Of angels praising God, and thus
Address'd their joyful song:-

'All glory be to God on high,

And to the earth be peace;

Good-will henceforth from heaven to men

Begin, and never cease!'

NAHUM TATE

57.

SHEPHERDS, REJOICE

HEPHERDS, rejoice, lift up your eyes,

And send your fears away;

News from the region of the skies!

Salvation's born to-day.

'Jesus, the God whom angels fear,
Comes down to dwell with you;
To-day He makes His entrance here,
But not as monarchs do.

'No gold, nor purple swaddling-bands,
Nor royal shining things;
A manger for His cradle stands

And holds the King of kings.

'Go, shepherds, where the Infant lies,

And see His humble throne :

With tears of joy in all your eyes
Go, shepherds, kiss the Son.'

Thus Gabriel sang: and straight around
The heavenly armies throng;
They tune their harps to lofty sound,
And thus conclude the song:

Glory to God that reigns above,
Let peace surround the earth;
Mortals shall know their Maker's love,
At their Redeemer's birth.'

Shepherds, rejoice

Lord! and shall angels have their songs,
And men no tunes to raise ?

O may we lose these useless tongues
When they forget to praise!

Glory to God that reigns above,
That pitied us forlorn!

We join to sing our Maker's love-
For there's a Saviour born.

58.

ISAAC WATTS

H

A CRADLE SONG

USH, my dear, lie still and slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed!

Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,
House and home thy friends provide;

All without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well supplied.

How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven He descended,
And became a Child like thee!

Soft and easy is thy cradle;

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay:
When His birthplace was a stable,

And His softest bed was hay.

A Cradle Song

See the kinder shepherds round Him,
Telling wonders from the sky!

Where they sought Him, there they found Him,
With the virgin-mother by.

See the lovely Babe a-dressing;
Lovely Infant, how He smiled!
When He wept, the mother's blessing
Soothed and hushed the holy Child.

Lo, He slumbers in His manger
Where the hornèd oxen fed;
-Peace, my darling, here's no danger;
Here's no ox a-near thy bed.

Mayst thou live to know and fear Him,
Trust and love Him all thy days;
Then go dwell for ever near Him,
See His face, and sing His praise.

I could give thee thousand kisses,
Hoping what I most desire;
Not a mother's fondest wishes

Can to greater joys aspire.

ISAAC WATTS

59.

A HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS DAY

CHRIS

HRISTIANS, awake, salute the happy morn
Whereon the Saviour of the world was born;

Rise to adore the Mystery of love,

Which hosts of angels chanted from above: