His uncontrollable intent;
His servants he, with new acquist
Of true experience, from this great event
With peace and consolation hath dismist,
And calm of mind, all passion spent.

CHRISTMAS HYMN.

It was the winter wild,
While the Heaven-born child

All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies ;
Nature in awe to him,
Had doff'd her gaudy trim,

With her great Master so to sympathize :
It was no season then for her
To wanton with the Sun, her lusty paramour.

Only with speeches fair
She wooes the gentle air

To hide her guilty front with innocent snow;
And on her naked shame,
Pollute with sinful blame,

The saintly veil of maiden white to throw ;
Confounded, that her Maker's eyes
Should look so near upon her foul deformities.

But he, her fears to cease,
Sent down the meek-ey'd Peace;

She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding

Down through the turning sphere,
His ready harbinger,

With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;
And, waving wide her myrtle wand,
She strikes an universal peace through sea and land.

No war, or battle's sound,
Was heard the world around:

The idle spear and shield were high up hung ;
The hooked chariot stood
Unstain'd with hostile blood;

The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with aweful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.

But peaceful was the night,
Wherein the Prince of light

His reign of peace upon the Earth began :
The winds, with wonder whist,
Smoothly the waters kist,

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean,
Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed

wave.

The stars, with deep amaze,
Stand fix'd in stedfast gaze,

Bending one way their precious influence;
And will not take their flight,
For all the morning light,

Or Lucifer that often warn’d them thence;
But in their glimmering orbs did glow,
Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.
And, though the shady gloom
Had given day her room,

The Sun himself withheld his wonted speed,
And hid his head for shame,
As his inferior flame

The new-enlighten'd world no more should need:
He saw a greater Sun appear
Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could

bear.

The shepherds on the lawn,
Or e'er the point of dawn,

Sat simply chatting in a rustic row;
Full little thought they then,
That the mighty Pan

Was kindly come to live with them below;
Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep,
Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.

When such music sweet
Their hearts and ears did greet,

As never was by mortal finger strook ;
Divinely-warbled voice
Answering the stringed noise,

As all their souls in blissful rapture took :
The air, such pleasure loth to lose,
With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly

close.

Nature that heard such sound,
Beneath the hollow round

Of Cynthia's seat, the aery region thrilling,

Now was almost won
To think her part was done,

And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ;
She knew such harmony alone
Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.

At last surrounds their sight
A globe of circular light,

(array’d;
That with long beams the shamefac'd night
The helmed Cherubim,
And sworded Seraphim,

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd, Harping in loud and solemn quire, With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born

Heir.

Such music (as 'tis said)
Before was never made,

But when of old the sons of morning sung,
While the Creator great
His constellations set,

And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung;
And cast the dark foundations deep,
And bid the weltering waves their cozy channel

keep.

Ring out, ye crystal spheres,
Once bless our human ears,

If ye have power to touch our senses so;
And let your silver chime
Move in melodious time;

And let the base of Heaven's deep organ blow;

And with your ninefold harmony,
Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.

For, if such holy song
Enwrap our fancy long,

Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold;
And speckled Vanity
Will sicken soon and die,

And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould; And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering

day.

Yea, Truth and Justice then
Will down return to men,

Orb'd in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing,
Mercy will sit between,
Thron'd in celestial sheen,

With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering; And Heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.

But wisest Fate says no,
This must not yet be so,

The babe yet lies in smiling infancy,
That on the bitter cross
Must redeem our loss;

So both himself and us to glorify:
Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep,
The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through

the deep;