Friday, December 29, 2023

Poem: “The Nativity of Christ” by Robert Southwell, S.J.

 Behold the father is the daughter’s son:

The bird that built the nest is hatched therein:

The old of years an hour hath not outrun:

Eternal life to live doth now begin,

The word is dumb: the mirth of heaven doth weep:

Might feeble is: and force doth faintly creep.

 

O dying souls, behold your living spring:

O dazzled eyes, behold your sun of grace:

Dull ears, attend what word this word doth bring,

Up, heavy hearts: with joy your joy embrace.

From death, from dark, from deafness, from despairs:

This life, this light, this word, this joy repairs.

 

Gift better than himself, God doth not know:

Gift better than his God, no man can see:

This gift doth here the giver given bestow:

Gift to this gift let each receiver be.

God is my gift, himself he freely gave me:

God’s gift am I, and none but God shall have me.

 

Man altered was by sin from man to beast:

Beasts’ food is hay, hay is all mortal flesh:

Now God is flesh, and lies in Manger pressed

As hay, the brutest sinner to refresh.

O happy field wherein this fodder grew,

Whose taste doth us from beasts to men renew.

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