 | Lyra Pastoralis |  |
Bethlehem Offerings
The star-led Sages to the Babe draw nigh:Before Him all their treasures are unrolled;
As to a King they offer costly gold—
As to a God they wave sweet incense high—
As to “a Man of sorrows,” born to die,
Tear-dropping myrrh, prophetic, they unfold;
The while the Babe with rapture they behold,
Or at His feet, in worship, prostrate lie.
Lord, I would bring Thee “precious faith” for treasure,
“Gold tried with fire,” and purer for the heat;
With praises I would fill my happy leisure,
Like fragrant incense swung beneath Thy feet;
And meekly take the cup which Thou dost measure,
“Wine mixed with myrrh,” the bitter with the sweet.
| Lyra Pastoralis | |