He saw heaven blossom with a new-born light, On which, as on a glorious stranger, gazed The golden eyes of night, whose beam made bright The way to Bethlem; and as boldly blazed (Nor ask’d leave of the sun) by day as night. By whom (as heaven’s illustrious handmaid) raised Three kings or, what is more, three wise men went Westward to find the world’s true orient. * * * * * That the great angel-blinding light should shrink His blaze to shine in a poor shepherd’s eye, That the unmeasured God so low should sink As Pris’ner in a few poor rags to lie, That from His mother’s breast He milk should drink Who feeds with nectar heaven’s fair family, That a vile manger His low bed should prove Who in a throne of stars thunders above: That He, whom the sun serves, should faintly peep Through clouds of infant flesh; that He the old Eternal Word should be a Child and weep, That He who made the fire should fear the cold: That heaven’s high majesty His court should keep In a clay cottage, by each blast controll’d: That glory’s self should serve our griefs and fears, And free Eternity submit to years; And further, that the law’s eternal Giver Should bleed in His own law’s obedience; And to the circumcising knife deliver Himself, the forfeit of His slave’s offence; That the unblemish’d Lamb, blessed for ever, Should take the mark of sin, and pain of sense:— These are the knotty riddles, whose dark doubt Entangle his lost thoughts past getting out. RICHARD CRASHAW (from _Sospetto d’Herode_) 43. A HYMN FOR THE EPIPHANY [Sung as by the three kings.] _1st King._ Bright Babe! whose awful beauties make The morn incur a sweet mistake; _2nd King._ For whom the officious heavens devise To disinherit the sun’s rise; _3rd King._ Delicately to displace The day, and plant it fairer in thy face; _1st King._ O Thou born King of loves! _2nd King._ Of lights! _3rd King._ Of joys! _Chorus._ Look up, sweet Babe, look up and see! For love of Thee, Thus far from home, The East is come To seek herself in Thy sweet eyes.