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GEORGE WITHER.

As on the night before this happy morn,
A blessed angel unto shepherds told,

Where (in a stable) He was poorly born,

Whom nor the earth, nor heaven of heavens can hold :

Through Bethlem rung

This news at their return;

Yea, angels sung

That God with us was born;

And they made mirth because we should not mourn.

Their angel-carol sing we then,

To God on high all glory be,

For peace on earth bestoweth He,
And showeth favour unto men.

This favour Christ vouchsafèd for our sake;

To buy us thrones, He in a manger lay ;

Our weakness took, that we His strength might take;
And was disrobed that He might us array:

Our flesh He wore,

Our sin to wear away;

Our curse He bore,

That we escape it

may;

And wept for us,

that we might sing for aye.

With angels, therefore, sing again,

To God on high all glory be;
For peace on earth bestoweth He,

And showeth favour unto men.

1

HYMN TO THE NATIVITY.

JOHN MILTON.

Ir was the winter wild,

While the heaven-born child

All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies :
Nature, in awe to Him,

Had doffed her gaudy trim,

With her great Master so to sympathize:

It was no season then for her

To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour.

Only with speeches fair

She woos the gentle air,

To hide her guilty front with innocent snow;

And on her naked shame,

Pollute with sinful blame,

The saintly veil of maiden white to throw;
Confounded, that her Maker's eyes,

Should look so near upon her foul deformities.

But He, her fears to cease,

Sent down the meek-eyed Peace ;

She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding
Down through the turning sphere,

His ready harbinger,

With turtle wing the amorous cloud dividing;

And, waving wide her myrtle wand,

She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.

No war, or battle's sound,

Was heard the world around:

The idle spear and shield were high up hung;

The hooked chariot stood

Unstained with hostile blood;

The trumpet spake not to the armèd throng;
And kings sat still with awful eye,

As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by.

But peaceful was the night,
Wherein the Prince of Light

His reign of peace upon the earth began:
The winds, with wonder whist,

Smoothly the waters kissed,

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean,

Who now hath quite forgot to rave,

While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave.

The stars, with deep amaze,

Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, Bending one way their precious influence;

And will not take their flight,

For all the morning light,

Or Lucifer that often warned them thence;

But in their glimmering orbs did glow,

Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.

And, though the shady gloom

Had given day her room,

The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,

And hid his head for shame,

As his inferior flame

The new enlightened world no more should need:

He saw a greater Sun appear

Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could bear.

HYMN TO THE NATIVITY.

The shepherds on the lawn,

Or ere the point of dawn,

Sat simply chatting in a rustic row:

Full little thought they then,

That the mighty Pan

Was kindly come to live with them below;
Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,

Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.

When such music sweet

Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal finger strook ; Divinely-warbled voice

Answering the stringed noise,

As all their souls in blissful rapture took :

The air, such pleasure loth to lose,

With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close.

Nature, that heard such sound,

Beneath the hollow round

Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling,

Now was almost won

To think her part was done,

And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ;

She knew such harmony alone

Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union.

At last surrounds their sight

A globe of circular light,

That with long beams the shame-faced night arrayed;

The helmed cherubim,

And sworded seraphim,

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed,

[graphic]

Harping in loud and solemn choir,

With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new born Heir.

Such music (as 't is said)

Before was never made,

But when of old the sons of morning sung,

While the Creator great

His constellations set,

And the well-balanced world on hinges hung;

And cast the dark foundations deep,

And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.

Ring out, ye crystal spheres,
Once bless our human ears,

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