University of Virginia Library

On Christmas Day.

Behold a silly tender Babe,
In freezing Winter night,
In homely Manger trembling lyes;
Alas! a piteous sight:
The Inns are full, no man will yield
This little Pilgrim, Bed;
But forc't he is with silly Beasts,
In crib to shrowd his head.
Despise him not for lying there,
First what he is enquire:
An orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.
Weigh not his crib, his woodden dish,
Nor beasts that by him feed:
Weigh not his Mother's poor attire,
Nor Joseph's simple weed.
This Stable is a Prince's Court,
The Crib his Chair of State:
The Beasts are parcel of his pomp,
The woodden Dish his Plate.
The persons in that poor attire,
His royal Liveries wear;
The Prince himself is come from Heaven,
This pomp is prized there.
With joy approach, O Christian wight,
Do homage to thy King;
And highly praise his humble pomp,
Which he from Heaven doth bring.