Virtus Rediviva Or a Panegyricke On the late King Charls the I. Second Monarch of Great Britain. By Tho. Forde |
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On the Nativitie.
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On the Nativitie.
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Hail holy tide,Wherein a Bride,
A Virgin, and a Mother,
Brought forth a Son,
The like was done,
Except her, by no other.
2
A Virgin pure,She did endure
After her Son, or rather.
It maybe said,
Shew as a maid,
And this Son was her Father.
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Here riddles vex,And do perplex
The eye of humane reason;
Heaven did combine,
With earth to joyn,
To consecrate this season.
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Hail blessed Maid,For by thine aid,
Eternal life is Ours,
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And without sin,
The son of God was yours.
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Hail happy birth,Wonder of Earth
And heaven; the Angels sing
Anthems to thee,
As glad to see
Their new-born heavenly King.
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Though thou art poore,Kings thee adore,
And precious presents bring,
They kneel to you,
And humbly bow,
As to some sacred thing.
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Thou that art ableTo turn a stable
Into a Temple, come,
Possess my heart,
Cleanse every part,
And take it for thy home.
| Virtus Rediviva | |