Full Chorus

Welcome, all wonders in one sight, Eternity shut in a span,

Summer in Winter, Day in Night, Heaven in Earth, and God in man,

Great, little One, whose all-embracing birth Lifts Earth to Heaven, stoops Heaven to Earth. Welcome, though not to gold nor silk, To more than Cæsar's birthright is, Two sister-seas of virgin-milk, With many a rarely-tempered kiss,

That breathes at once both maid and mother, Warms in the one, cools in the other.

She sings Thy tears asleep, and dips Her kisses in Thy weeping eye;

She spreads the red leaves of Thy lips, That in their buds yet blushing

e:

She 'gainst those mother-diamonds, tries The points of Her young eagle's eyes.

Welcome, though not to those gay flies,1 Gilded i' th' beams of earthly kings,

Slippery souls in smiling eyes; But to poor shepherds' home-spun things; Whose wealth's their flock; whose wit, to be Well-read in their simplicity.

Yet when young April's husband-showers Shall bless the fruitful Maia's bed,

We'll bring the first-born of her flowers To kiss Thy feet, and crown Thy head.

To Thee, dread Lamb, Whose love must

keep

The shepherds, more than they the sheep. 1 Butterflies, courtiers.

To Thee, meek Majesty, soft King
Of simple Graces and sweet Loves:
Each of us his lamb will bring,
Each his pair of silver doves;

Till burnt at last in fire of Thy fair
Ourselves become our own best sacrifice.

eyes,

A HYMN FOR THE CIRCUMCISION DAY OF OUR LORD

RISE, thou best and brightest morning!
Rosy with a double red;

With thine own blush thy cheeks adorning,
And the dear drops this day were shed.

All the purple pride, that laces

The crimson curtains of thy bed, Gilds thee not with so sweet graces, Nor sets thee in so rich a red.

Of all the fair-cheek'd flowers that fill thee,
None so fair thy bosom strows,
As this modest maiden lily

Our sins have shamed into a rose.

Bid thy golden god, the sun,

Burnish'd in his best beams rise,
Put all his red-e
rubies on;
These rubies shall put out their eyes.

Let him make poor the purple East,

Search what the world's close cabinets keep,

Rob the rich births of each bright nest
That flaming in their fair beds sleep.

Let him embrave 1 his own bright tresses
With a new morning made of gems;
And wear, in those his wealthy dresses,
Another day of diadems.

When he hath done all he may,
To make himself rich in his rise,
All will be darkness to the day

That breaks from one of these bright eyes.

And soon this sweet truth shall appear,

Dear Babe, ere many days be done: The Morn shall come to meet Thee here, And leave her own neglected sun.

Here are beauties shall bereave him 2
Of all his eastern paramours: 3
His Persian lovers 3 all shall leave him,
And swear faith to Thy sweeter powers;
Nor while they leave him shall they lose the sun
But in Thy fairest eyes find two for one.

OUR BLESSED LORD IN HIS CIRCUMCISION TO HIS FATHER

I

то

'O Thee these first-fruits of My growing death, (For what else is My life?) lo, I bequeath.

II

Taste this, and as Thou lik'st this lesser flood
Expect a sea; My heart shall make it good.

2 The sun.

1 Decorate.

3 The sun worshippers.

III

Thy wrath that wades here now, ere long shall swim,

The flood-gate shall be set wide ope for Him.

IV

Then let Him drink, and drink, and do His worst, To drown the wantonness of His wild thirst.

V

Now's but the nonage1 of My pains, My fears
Are yet but in their hopes, not come to years.

VI

The day of My dark woes is yet but morn,
My tears but tender, and My death new-born.

VII

Yet may these unfledged griefs give fate some

guess,

These cradle-torments have their towardness.

VIII

These purple buds of blooming death may be
Erst the full stature of a fatal tree.

IX

And till My riper woes to age are come,
This knife may be the spear's præludium.2

1 Not come to maturity.

2 Prelude, type.

IN THE GLORIOUS EPIPHANY OF OUR LORD

A HYMN SUNG AS BY THE THREE KINGS

DEDICATION

TO THE QUEEN'S MAJESTY

MADAM,1

'Mongst those long rows of crowns that gild your race,2

These royal sages 3 sue for decent place:
The daybreak of the Nations; their first ray,
When the dark World dawn'd into Christian Day,
And smil'd i' th' Babe's bright face: the purpling
bud

And rosy dawn of the right royal Blood,
Fair first-fruits of the Lamb, sure kings in this,
They took a kingdom while they gave a kiss.
But the World's homage, scarce in these well-blown,4
We read in you (rare Queen) ripe and full-grown.
For from this day's rich seed of diadems
Does rise a radiant crop of royal stems,

A golden harvest of crown'd heads, that meet
And crowd for kisses from the Lamb's white feet:
In this illustrious throng, your lofty flood
Swells high, fair confluence of all high-born blood:

1 Queen Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles 1.

2 She was the daughter of Henry iv. of France.

3 The wise men who came from the East to Christ's cradle.

4 Come to the full flower.