A Hymn for the Epiphany. 67 Chorus. To Thee, Thou Day of Night! Thou East of West! Lo, we at last have found the way To Thee, the world's great universal The general and indifferent day. 1 King. All circling point! all-centring sphere! The world's one round eternal year: 2 King. Whose full and all-unwrinkled face Nor sinks nor swells with time or place; 3 King. But everywhere and every while Is one consistent solid smile, 1 King. Not vexed and tost, 2 King. Twixt spring and frost; 3 King. Nor by alternate shreds of light; Sordidly shifting hands with shades and night. Chorus. O little All, in Thy embrace, The world lies warm and likes his Nor does his full globe fail to be Nor makes the whole world Thy half- Richard Crashaw. A HYMN ON THE NATIVITY OF MY SAVIOUR. I sing the birth was born to-night, The Son of God th' eternal king, And freed the soul from danger; He whom the whole world could not take, The Word, which heaven and earth did make, Was now laid in a manger. The Father's wisdom willed it so, Both wills were in one stature; And as that wisdom had decreed, A Hymn on the Nativity of my Saviour. 69 What comfort by Him do we win, Ben Jonson. AT CHRISTMAS. All after pleasures as I rid one day, My horse and I both tried, body and mind, With full cry of affections quite astray, I took up in the next inn I could find. There, when I came, whom found I but my dear My dearest Lord; expecting till the grief Of pleasures brought me to Him; ready there To be all passengers' most sweet relief? O Thou, whose glorious, yet contracted light, Wrapt in night's mantle, stole into a manger; Since my dark soul and brutish is Thy right, To man, of all beasts, be not Thou a stranger; Furnish and deck my soul, that Thou may'st have A better lodging than a rock or grave. The shepherds sing; and shall I silent be? My soul's a shepherd too; a flock it feeds The pasture is Thy word, the stream Thy grace, At Christmas. 71 Shepherd and flock shall sing, and all my powers Outsing the daylight hours. Then we will chide the sun for letting night We sing one common Lord; wherefore He should Himself the candle hold. I will go searching till I find a sun Shall stay till we have done; A willing shiner, that shall shine as gladly Then we will sing and shine all our own day, His beams shall cheer my breast; and both so twine, Till ev'n his beams sing and my music shine. George Herbert. |