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Text: | Christ's Infancy |
1 O sight of anguish! view it near,
What weeping Innocence is here,
A manger for his bed?
The brutes yield refuge to his woe,
Men the worst brutes no pity show,
Nor give him friendly aid.
2 Why do no rapid thunders roll?
Why do no Tempests rack the pole?
O miracle of grace!
Or why no angel on the wing,
Warm for the honors of their Kkng,
T' extirpate all the race?
3 Did he that Infant bath'd in tears,
Call into form the rolling spheres?
Did seraphs wait his nod?
Helpless he calls, but man delays;
The moral chaos disobeys,
This Offspring of a God.
4 Say radiant seraphs, thron'd in light,
Did love e'er tow'r so high a flight,
Or glory sink so low?
This wonder angels scarce declare,
Angels the rapture scarce can bear,
Or equal praise bestow.
5 Redemption! 'tis a boundless theme!
Thou boundless mind, our hearts inflame
With ardour from above.
Words are but faint, let joy express;
Vain is mere joy, let actions bless
This prodigy of love.
Text Information | |
---|---|
First Line: | O sight of anguish! view it near |
Title: | Christ's Infancy |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1783 |
Notes: | For INFANT SAVIOUR |