Classic Poem

Lett folly praise that phancy loves, I praise and love that Childe
Whose hart no thought, whose tongue no word, whose hand no dede defilde.
I praise Him most, I love Him best, all prayse and love is His;
While Him I love, in Him I live, and cannot lyve amisse.
Love's sweetest mark, lavde's highest theme, man's most desirèd light,
To love Him life, to leave Him death, to live in Him delighte.
He myne by gift, I His by debt, thus ech to other dewe,
First frende He was, best frende He is, all tymes will try Him trewe.
Though yonge, yet wise, though small, yet stronge; though man, yet God He is;
As wise He knowes, as stronge He can, as God He loves to blisse.
His knowledge rules, His strength defendes, His love doth cherish all;
His birth our joy, His life our light, His death our end of thrall.
Alas! He weepes, He sighes, He pantes, yet do His angells singe;
Out of His teares, His sighes and throbbs, doth bud a joyfull springe.
Almighty Babe, Whose tender armes can force all foes to flye,
Correct my faultes, protect my life, direct me when I dye!