ROBERT SOUTHWELL

i op. The Burning Babe

A S I in hoary winter's night

• • Stood shivering in the snow,

Surprised I was with sudden heat

Which made my heart to glow; And lifting up a fearful eye

To view what fire was near, A pretty babe all burning bright

Did in the air appear ; Who, scorched with excessive heat,

Such floods of tears did shed, As though His floods should quench His flames,

Which with His tears were bred : 1 Alas ! ' quoth He, ' but newly born

In fiery heats I fry, Yet none approach to warm their hearts

Or feel my fire but I !

• My faultless breast the furnace is ;

The fuel, wounding thorns ; Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke;

The ashes, shames and scorns ; The fuel Justice layeth on,

And Mercy blows the coals, The metal in this furnace wrought

Are men's defiled souls: For which, as now on fire I am

To work them to their good, So will I melt into a bath,

To wash them in my blood.' With this He vanish'd out of sight

And swiftly shrunk away, And straight I called unto mind

That it was Christmas Day.

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