Or rather neither, but a treasure Is equally both here and there, Draw nearer then, and freely pour Let not his birth-day clouded be, THE CIRCUMCISION, OR NEW-YEAR'S DAY. SORROW betide my sins! Must smart so soon Can nothing else assuage The wrath of heaven, but his infant-blood? Is this thy welcome to the world, great God! Of sin-incensed wrath? Alas! what pleasure hath Thy Father's justice to begin thy passion, Is it to antedate thy death? to indite Since nothing is so good? Or, is 't by this experiment to try, Whether thou beest born mortal, and canst die? If man must needs draw blood of God, yet why Stays he not till thy time be come to die? Didst thou thus early bleed For us to show what need We have to hasten unto thee as fast; "Tis true, we should do so: Yet in this blood There's something else, that must be understood; It seals thy covenant, That so we may not want Witness enough against thee, that thou art The sacrament of thy regeneration Original corruption, was not thine, In holy Baptism this is brought to me, Thy Circumcision writ thy death in blood : O blessed change! Yet, rightly understood, That blood was water, and this water's blood. What shall I give again, To recompense thy pain? Lord, take revenge upon me for this smart: THE EPIPHANY, OR TWELFTH-DAY. GREAT, without controversy great, God in the flesh is manifest, And that which hath for ever been Invisible, may now be seen, The eternal Deity new drest. Angels to shepherds brought the news : The stable and the manger hide His glory from his own; but these Of Majesty divine have spied. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh, they give ; By whose free gift it is they live. R Though clouded in a veil of flesh, O that his light and influence, That, as my calling doth require, THE PASSION, OR GOOD FRIDAY. THIS day my Saviour died and do I live? Did his free mercy, and mere love to me, But dying suffer more through grief and shame, And can ingratitude so far prevail, Methinks some thorn out of his crown, some nail, And doth he not expect it should be so? His just desire? O no, it cannot be : His death must needs be death to me. My life's not mine, but his: for he did die Thorough the gates of death must go Die then, dull soul, and if thou canst not die, Of living tears, whose streams may ne'er go dry, Nor turned be another way, Till they have drown'd all joys, but those alone, Which sorrow claimeth for its own. For sorrow hath its joys: and I am glad |