Almighty Babe, whose tender arms Can force all foes to fly, Correct my faults, protect my life, Direct me when I die! ROBERT SOUTHWELL 27. NATIVITY Immensity, cloistered in thy dear womb, Now leaves His well-beloved imprisonment; There He hath made Himself to His intent, Weak enough now into our world to come: But oh! for thee, for Him, hath th’ inn no room? Yet lay Him in His stall, and from the orient Stars and wise men will travel, to prevent Th’ effect of Herod’s jealous general doom. See’st thou, my soul! with thy faith’s eyes, how He, Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie! Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high, That would have need to be pitied by thee? Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go, With His kind mother who partakes thy woe. JOHN DONNE 28. FOR CHRISTMAS DAY Immortal Babe, who this dear day Didst change Thine heaven for our clay, And didst with flesh Thy godhead veil, Eternal Son of God, all hail! Shine, happy star; ye angels, sing Glory on high to heaven’s King: Run, shepherds, leave your nightly watch, See heaven come down to Bethlehem’s cratch. Worship, ye sages of the east, The King of gods in meanness dressed, O blessèd maid, smile and adore The God thy womb and arms have bore. Star, angels, shepherds, and wise sages, Thou virgin glory of all ages, Restorèd frame of heaven and earth, Joy in your dear Redeemer’s birth! JOSEPH HALL 29. A HYMN ON THE NATIVITY OF MY SAVIOUR I sing the birth was born to-night, The Author both of life and light, The angel so did sound it: And like the ravished shepherds said, Who saw the light and were afraid, Yet searched, and true they found it. The Son of God, th’ Eternal King, That did us all salvation bring, And freed our 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, The Son’s obedience knew no No, Both wills were in one stature; And as that wisdom had decreed, The Word was now made flesh indeed, And took on Him our nature. What comfort by Him we do win, Who made Himself the price of sin To make us heirs of glory! To see this Babe, all innocence, A martyr born in our defence: Can man forget the story? BEN JONSON 30. THE SHEPHERDS’ SONG