With all thy hart, with all thy soule and mind,
    Thou must Him love, and His beheasts embrace;
    All other loves, with which the world doth blind
    Weake fancies, and stirre up affections base,
    Thou must renounce and utterly displace,
    And give thy selfe unto Him full and free,
    That full and freely gave Himselfe to thee.

    Then shall thy ravisht soul inspired bee
    With heavenly thoughts farre above humane skil,
    And thy bright radiant eyes shall plainly see
    Th’ idee of His pure glorie present still
    Before thy face, that all thy spirits shall fill
    With sweet enragement of celestial love,
    Kindled through sight of those faire things above.

    Spencer

    New Prince, new pomp.

    Behold a silly tender Babe,
      In freezing winter night,
    In homely manger trembling lies;
      Alas! a piteous sight.

    The inns are full, no man will yield
      This little Pilgrim bed;
    But forced He is with silly beasts
      In crib to shroud His head.

    Despise Him not for lying there,
      First what He is inquire;
    An orient pearl is often found
      In depth of dirty mire.

    Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish,
      Nor beast that by Him feed;
    Weigh not his mother’s poor attire,
      Nor Joseph’s simple weed.

    This stable is a Prince’s court,
      The crib His chair of state;
    The beasts are parcel of His pomp,
      The wooden dish His plate.

The persons in that poor attire
His royal liveries wear;
The Prince himself is come from heaven—­
This pomp is praised there.

With joy approach, O Christian wight! 
Do homage to thy King;
And highly praise this humble pomp
Which He from heaven doth bring.

Southwell.

A dialogue between three shepherds.

1.  Where is this blessed Babe
That hath made
All the world so full of joy
And expectation;
That glorious Boy
That crowns each nation
With a triumphant wreath of blessedness?

2.  Where should He be but in the throng,
And among
His angel-ministers, that sing
And take wing
Just as may echo to His voice,
And rejoice,
When wing and tongue and all
May so procure their happiness?

3.  But He hath other waiters now. 
A poor cow,
An ox and mule stand and behold,
And wonder
That a stable should enfold
Him that can thunder.

Chorus.  O what a gracious God have we! 
How good!  How great!  Even as our misery.

Jeremy Taylor.

A song of praise for the birth of Christ.

Away, dark thoughts; awake, my joy;
Awake, my glory; sing;
Sing songs to celebrate the birth
Of Jacob’s God and King. 
O happy night, that brought forth light,
Which makes the blind to see! 
The day spring from on high came down
To cheer and visit thee.