In The Yule-Log Glow, Vol. IV | Page 8

the chambers, and in any case
Let each man give attendance
in his place."
Thus if the king were coming would we do,
And
'twere good reason too;
For 'tis a duteous thing
To show all honor to
an earthly king,
And after all our travail and our cost,
So he be
pleased, to think no labor lost.
But at the coming of the King of
Heaven,
All's set at six and seven:
We wallow in our sin,
Christ
cannot find a chamber in the inn.
We entertain Him always like a
stranger,
And, as at first, still lodge Him in the manger.
_Christ Church, Oxford, MS._
NEW PRINCE, NEW POMP.
Behold a silly, 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 beast that by Him feed;

Weigh not His mother's poor attire,
Nor Joseph's simple weed.
This stable is a prince's court,
This 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 praiséd there.
With joy approach, O Christian wight!
Do homage to thy King;

And highly praise this humble pomp
Which He from heaven doth
bring.
_Robert Southwell._
OF THE EPIPHANY.
Fair eastern star, that art ordained to run
Before the sages, to the
rising sun,
Here cease thy course, and wonder that the cloud
Of this
poor stable can thy Maker shroud:
Ye heavenly bodies glory to be
bright,
And are esteemed as ye are rich in light;
But here on earth is
taught a different way,
Since under this low roof the Highest lay.

Jerusalem erects her stately towers,
Displays her windows and adorns
her bowers;
Yet there thou must not cast a trembling spark,
Let
Herod's palace still continue dark;
Each school and synagogue thy
force repels,
There pride enthroned in misty error dwells;
The
temple, where the priests maintain their quire,
Shall taste no beam of
thy celestial fire,
While this weak cottage all thy splendor takes:
A
joyful gate of every chink it makes.
Here shines no golden roof, no
ivory stair,
No king exalted in a stately chair,
Girt with attendants,

or by heralds styled,
But straw and hay enwrap a speechless child.

Yet Sabæ's lords before this babe unfold
Their treasures, offering
incense, myrrh, and gold.
The crib becomes an altar; therefore dies

No ox nor sheep; for in their fodder lies
The Prince of Peace, who,
thankful for His bed,
Destroys those rites in which their blood was
shed:
The quintessence of earth He takes, and fees,
And precious
gums distilled from weeping trees;
Rich metals and sweet odors now
declare
The glorious blessings which His laws prepare,
To clear us
from the base and loathsome flood
Of sense and make us fit for
angel's food,
Who lift to God for us the holy smoke
Of fervent
prayers with which we Him invoke,
And try our actions in the
searching fire
By which the seraphims our lips inspire:
No muddy
dross pure minerals shall infect,
We shall exhale our vapors up direct:

No storm shall cross, nor glittering lights deface
Perpetual sighs
which seek a happy place.
_Sir John Beaumont._
A HYMN FOR THE EPIPHANY.
SUNG AS BY THE THREE KINGS.
_1 King._ Bright Babe! whose awful beauties make
The morn incur a sweet mistake;
_2 King._ For whom the officious
heavens devise
To disinherit the sun's rise;
_3 King._ Delicately to displace
The day, and plant it fairer in Thy face;
_1 King._ O Thou born King
of loves!
_2 King._ Of lights!
_3 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.
_1 King._ We who strangely went astray,
Lost in a bright
Meridian night;
_2 King._ A darkness made of too much day;
_3 King._ Beckoned
from far
By Thy fair star,
Lo, at last have found our way.
_Chorus._ To Thee, Thou Day of Night! Thou East of West!
Lo, we at last have found the way