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The Trail Through The Forest
Two years had passed, to a day, almost to an hour, si...

Christmas Day
CHARLES WESLEY Hark! the herald angels sing ...

A Christmas Carol For Children
MARTIN LUTHER Good news from heaven the ange...

Christmas Under The Snow
OLIVE THORNE MILLER IT WAS just before Christmas, ...

Minstrels And Maids
WILLIAM MORRIS Outlanders, whence come ye la...

The Spirit Of Christmas
From Pickwick Papers. CHARLES DICKENS And numerou...

The Christmas Goose At The Cratchits'
CHARLES DICKENS You might have thought a goose the r...





New Prince New Pomp






ROBERT SOUTHWELL

Behold a simple, tender Babe,
In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas! a piteous sight.

The inns are full; no man will yield
This little Pilgrim bed;
But forced he is with silly beasts
In crib to shroud his head.

Despise him not for lying there;
First what he is inquire:
An Orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.

Weigh not his crib, his wooden 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 wooden dish his plate.

The persons in that poor attire
His royal liveries wear;
The Prince himself is come from heaven:
This pomp is praised there.

With joy approach, O Christian wight!
Do homage to thy King;
And highly praise this humble pomp,
Which he from heaven doth bring.





Next: The Three Kings

Previous: Hymn For Christmas



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