Two hymns for the nativity of Christ Whereunto are added, a new-yeers gift, and an hymn for the feast of Twelf-Tide. The music part being set by Mr. R.M.

An HYMN For the Nativity of Christ, Sung as by Shepherds.

RIse, sullen Sun, what lie a bed! Thou deep, dull trait'rous hypocrite: The Sun of Heav'n hath shewn his head This morn, and not your beams light yet? For shame, for shame, bring perfect day; For here's a Sun in beams of Hay; Who hath brought perfect beams to night, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 yet your beams must give them light. Then rear thy head, and go along With us, in power of Praise and Song.

Heark, how the Angels from the sky, All sorts of Cherubins beside, Divinely make one Harmony, At this Decembers blessed Tide: Angels above, and Kings below, To make compleat this day, bestow Sweet Odours from the East, To scent our Phoenix nest, And Gold t'enrich this Feast.

The Firmament in bright aray, Is beautifi'd with Stars, and laid In Gold, as if upon this day Order'd to wait upon the Babe. Stars splendent shew, cause from us far, Out of a Manger, shines a Star Which more light to the world Affords, then those Stars twirl'd, Or 'bout the Poles are whirl'd.

In the vast Skie a Star did shine To us poor Shepherds: by that light W'were brought unto the Babe divine, Delivered from Natures night; Where in an Inne, nay Horses Inne, The Babe his first breath did begin. O vast Eternity, Godhead-Divinity, Manhood-Nativity!

This is the News we Shepherds bring; Our eyes have seen a starry Stranger: We kiss'd the Cradle of our King At Bethlehem, a dirty Manger; Whose body tender close did lie Unto his Mother, Virgin Mary. A Virgin chaste and pure, As Mother, did endure The pangs of Woman sure.

We saw no Curtains but black Night, The Virgin-Mother to keep warm: Earths nightly rayment turn'd to white, When Blessedness it self was born: And so the Firmament did strow Its Winter-stars, pure Snow, below. So bedded was the Cradle, And lined was the Stable With pure, but cold Moveables.

No sooner from the womb he came, Translated God for Man did cry: Virgin, Maid, Mother, Married-dame, She was by this blest Deity. Earth, wonder much; Heaven, much more! Godhead clothed in Manhood poor. Gold like to Gold, when sod, Appears, though in dirt trod: And God, in Flesh, was God.

The Babe sings, cries, and tunes out groans, As if he hence departing were. What draws out groans, but inward moans And after groans, drop trickling tears. Oh what a day is this to us, That God for Man must suffer thus! Highest with One above, Man 'mongst men must move, Vastness of depths in love.

We saw the Babe, the Babe this morn; Compute we cannot yet his age: Before yeers were, he long was born, In Gods intent, to feed his Rage, Lest it should Man devour. Wee see Him born, who was born before we. Adam first, this Adam next; So in order to the Text, This born before That exprest.

Farewel, dear Virgin, rich with Balms, And Sweets of heavenly Paradice: Paradice thou hast in thine arms, A fleshy Bundle of heavens Spice, Which dropt from heaven in Humane form. Regain'd is Paradice this morn. Oblest Nativity, Which from the Deity Sprang this Benignity.

And thee, dear Babe, whose Royal head Embalmed lies in Innocence; Betwixt two brests making thy bed: She could procure none other fence. Should he return to earth again, 'Would finde less Faith, and more Disdain. With Garlands wreath'd with Bays, And Rose-Mary always, We'll crown this birth of days.

God is become an earthly guest: 'Tis the sweet pride of his Humility, To board himself at Maries brest; And where he tables, there to lie. Sweet are thy shifts, thou King of kings, Sucking all day two milky springs: And when at night th'art call'd to bed, No more th'are food, but pillows spred, To rest thy wearied head. They prove At once both Food, and Bed of love.