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There was no room upon Judea's throne:

The Idumean, Cæsar's vassal, reigned. The Long-expected came unto His own,

And to receive their King His own disdained. Ah, such is still man's blind, ungrateful part, There is no room for Christ within the heart!

Josiah Conder.

Now let us sing with joy and mirth,

In honour of the Saviour's birth;

For His love and humanity,
Who gave Himself for us to die.

By Adam we were all forlorn,
But now Christ Jesus to us born
Has freed us from captivity,

And vanquished has our enemy.

When He was born none did Him snib

To lie right lowly in a crib;

An ox, an ass, right tenderly,
Refreshed His humanity.

His Godhead needeth no support,
For it was full of all comfort,
Which equal is in all degree
Unto His Father's majesty.

The angels sang with merriness
Unto the herdsmen, more and less,
And bade them of good comfort be,
For Christ's new nativity.

For ye were all at God's horn,*
This Babe to you that now is born,

Shall make you safe and for you die,
And you restore to liberty.

This Babe for you did shed His blood,
And hanged dead upon the rood;

And for His great humanity,

Exalted is His majesty.

And now He is our Advocate,
Praying for us both early and late;
This can the Scripture verify,

In so far as a man is He.

Therefore, all time, and tide, and hour,

Pass unto Him as Mediator,

Betwixt His Father's wrath and thee,

Of sin if thou wilt cleansed be.

* Outlawed; an old Scottish phrase: outlawry was proclaimed at the Market Cross with three blasts of the horn. This old poem is given above in a somewhat modernised version.

For He has promised with His heart
To sinners all that will revert,

And from their sinful life will flee,
To reign with Him eternally.

To God the Father give we glore,

Also to Christ for evermore;

The Holy Ghost exalted be,

Worker of this nativity!

Old Scottish Carol.

WHY liest Thou in stable,

Creator of all?

Why pulest Thou in cradle,

Restorer from fall?

Art a King? where's Thy bravery,

And courtiers to slaver Thee,

And hall of high cheer?

All about Thee is

Poverty's seignory,

penury,

A strange court is here!

Led by love for this human

Race hither I came,

Itself to death dooming

Through baseness and blame;

By this my poverty,

In rich robes of dignity

Coming to dress thee;
By my nativity,

With offering of purity
Willing to bless thee.

With a million of praises

I laud Thee, I laud Thee!
For Thy marvellous graces
I applaud, I applaud Thee!
Be laud and thanksgiving,
And praise to our living
Friend in high heaven!

To whom, without ceasing,
Power, honour, and blessing,

By angels are given.

J. R. S. (from the Latin).

SHE gave with joy her virgin breast;
She hid it not, she bared the breast
Which suckled that divinest babe.
Blessed, blessed were the breasts
Which the Saviour-infant kissed,

And blessed, blessed was the mother

Who wrapt His limbs in swaddling-clothes;

Singing placed Him on her lap,
Hung o'er Him with her looks of love,
And soothed Him with a lulling motion.
Blessed! for she sheltered Him

From the damp and chilling air;
Blessed, blessed for she lay

With such a babe in one blest bed,
Close as babes and mothers lie;
Blessed, blessed evermore,

With her virgin lips she kissed,
With her arms and to her breast

She embraced the babe divine,

Her babe divine the virgin mother!
Blessed mother, virgin pure,

In the darkness and the night

For us she bore the heavenly Lord.

Ottfried, translated by S. T. Coleridge.

HARK! the Herald Angels sing,
"Glory to the new-born King,
“Peace on earth and mercy mild,
66 God and sinners reconciled."

Hark! the Herald Angels sing,
"Glory to the new-born King!"

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