The poems and verse-translations of the Right Rev. Jeremy Taylor For the first time collected and edited after the author's own text: With introduction. By the Rev. Alexander B. Grosart [in Miscellanies of The Fuller Worthies' Library] |
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 | The poems and verse-translations of the Right Rev. Jeremy Taylor |  |
[The Fourth] Hymn for Christmas Day.
Awake, my soul, and come away!
Put on thy best array;
Least if thou longer stay,
Thou lose some minitts of so blest a day.
Goe run,
And bid good morrow to the sun:
Welcome his safe return,
to Capricorn;
And that great morne
Wherein a God was borne,
Whose story none can tell
But He Whose every word's a miracle.
To-day Almightiness grew weak;
The Worde itself was mute, and could not speak.
That Jacob's star Which made the sun
To dazle if he durst look on,
Now mantled ore in Beth'lem's night,
Borrowed a star to shew Him light.
He that begirt each zone,
To Whom both poles are one,
Who grasp't the Zodiack in's hand
And made it move or stand,
Is now by nature man,
By stature but a span;
Eternitie is now grown short;
A King is borne without a court;
The water thirsts; the fountain's dry;
And Life being borne, made apt to dye.
Put on thy best array;
Least if thou longer stay,
Thou lose some minitts of so blest a day.
Goe run,
And bid good morrow to the sun:
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to Capricorn;
And that great morne
Wherein a God was borne,
Whose story none can tell
But He Whose every word's a miracle.
To-day Almightiness grew weak;
The Worde itself was mute, and could not speak.
That Jacob's star Which made the sun
To dazle if he durst look on,
Now mantled ore in Beth'lem's night,
Borrowed a star to shew Him light.
He that begirt each zone,
To Whom both poles are one,
Who grasp't the Zodiack in's hand
And made it move or stand,
Is now by nature man,
By stature but a span;
Eternitie is now grown short;
A King is borne without a court;
The water thirsts; the fountain's dry;
And Life being borne, made apt to dye.
Chorus.
Then let our prayers emulate and vieWith His humilitie:
Since Hee's exil'd from skeyes
That we might rise,—
From low estate of men
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Each man winde up's heart
To bear a part
In that angelick quire, and show
His glory high as He was low!
Let's sing t'wards men good wil and charity,
Peace upon Earth, glory to God on high
Hallelujah, Hallelujah!
| The poems and verse-translations of the Right Rev. Jeremy Taylor | |