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| WHAT 1 hath man done, that man shall not undo, | |
| Since God to him is grown so near akin! | |
| Did his foe slay him? he shall slay his foe: | |
| Hath he lost all? he all again shall win: | |
| Is sin his master? he shall master sin: | 5 |
| Too hardy soul, with sin the field to try: | |
| The only way to conquer, was to fly; | |
| But thus long death hath lived, and now death’s self shall die. | |
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| He is a path, if any be misled; | |
| He is a robe, if any naked be; | 10 |
| If any chance to hunger, He is bread; | |
| If any be a bondman, He is free; | |
| If any be but weak, how strong is He? | |
| To dead men life He is, to sick men health: | |
| To blind men sight, and to the needy wealth; | 15 |
| A pleasure without loss, a treasure without stealth. | |
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| Who can forget, never to be forgot, | |
| The time that all the world in slumber lies: | |
| When, like the stars, the singing angels shot | |
| To earth, and heav’n awakèd all his eyes, | 20 |
| To see another sun at midnight rise | |
| On earth? was never sight of pareil fame: | |
| For God before man like Himself did frame, | |
| But God Himself now like a mortal man became. | |
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| A child He was, and had not learned to speak, | 25 |
| That with His word the world before did make: | |
| His mother’s arms Him bore, He was so weak, | |
| That with one hand the vaults of heav’n could shake. | |
| See how small room my infant Lord doth take, | |
| Whom all the world is not enough to hold. | 30 |
| Who of His years, or of His age hath told? | |
| Never such age so young, never a child so old. | |
| |
| And yet but newly He was infanted, | |
| And yet already He was sought to die; | |
| Yet scarcely born, already banished; | 35 |
| Not able yet to go, and forced to fly: | |
| But scarcely fled away, when by and by, | |
| The tyrant’s sword with blood is all defil’d, | |
| And Rachel for her sons, with fury wild, | |
| Cries, O thou cruel king, and O my sweetest child! | 40 |
| |
| Egypt His nurse became, where Nilus springs, | |
| Who straight, to entertain the rising sun, | |
| The hasty harvest in his bosom brings; | |
| But now for drought the fields were all undone, | |
| And now with waters all is overrun: | 45 |
| So fast the Cynthian mountains pour’d their snow, | |
| When once they felt the sun so near them glow, | |
| That Nilus Egypt lost, and to a sea did grow. | |
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| The angels caroll’d loud their song of peace, | |
| The cursèd oracles were strucken dumb; | 50 |
| To see their Shepherd the poor shepherds press, | |
| To see their king the kingly sophies come; | |
| And them to guide unto his Master’s home, | |
| A star comes dancing up the orient, | |
| That springs for joy over the strawy tent, | 55 |
| Where gold, to make their prince a crown, they all present. | |
