BEHOLD A SIMPLE, TENDER BABE / Christmas
BL. Robert Southwell, S.J., d.1595 / Francis E. Monaghan, C.S.B.
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| 1 |
Behold a simple, tender Babe, In freezing winter night, In homely manger trembling lies: Alas! a piteous sight. |
| 2 |
The inns are full; no man will yield This little Pilgrim bed; But forced He is with simple beasts In crib to shroud His head. |
| 3 |
Despise Him not for lying there; First what He is inquire: An orient pearl is often found In depth of dirty mire. |
| 4 |
Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish, Nor beasts that by Him feed; Weigh not His mother's poor attire, Nor Joseph's simple weed. |
| 5 |
This stable is a Prince's court, This crib His chair of state, The beasts are parcel of His pomp, The wooden dish His plate. |
| 6 |
The persons in that poor attire His royal liv'ries wear; The Prince Himself is come from heav'n. This pomp is prized there. |
| 7 |
With joy approach, O Christian soul, Do homage to thy King; And highly praise this humble pomp, Which He from heav'n doth bring. |
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