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, By Adam we were all forlorn, 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, His Godhead needeth no support, The angels sang with merriness For ye were all at God's horn,* Shall make you safe and for you die, This Babe for you did shed His blood, And for His great humanity, Exalted is His majesty. And now He is our Advocate, 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 And from their sinful life will flee, 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; With offering of purity With a million of praises I laud Thee, I laud Thee! To whom, without ceasing, By angels are given. J. R. S. (from the Latin). SHE gave with joy her virgin breast; And blessed, blessed was the mother Who wrapt His limbs in swaddling-clothes; Singing placed Him on her lap, From the damp and chilling air; With such a babe in one blest bed, With her virgin lips she kissed, She embraced the babe divine, Her babe divine the virgin mother! In the darkness and the night For us she bore the heavenly Lord. Ottfried, translated by S. T. Coleridge. HARK! the Herald Angels sing, Hark! the Herald Angels sing, |