Immensity cloistered in
thy dear womb,
Now leaves His well-belov'd
imprisonment,
There He hath made
Himself to His intent
Weak enough, now into
the world to come;
But O, for thee, for
Him, hath the inn no
room?
Yet lay Him in this
stall, and from the
Orient,
Stars and wise men will
travel to prevent
The effect of Herod's
jealous general doom.
Seest thou, my soul,
with thy faith's eyes,
how He
Which fills all place,
yet none holds Him, doth
lie?
Was not His pity towards
thee wondrous high,
That would have need to
be pitied by thee?
Kiss Him, and with Him
into Egypt go,
With His kind mother,
who partakes thy woe. |