Classic Poem

Let each religious Soule then rise
To offer his best sacrifice,
And on the wings of pray'r and praise
His gratefull heart to Heav'n raise;
For this, that in a stable lyes,
This poor neglected babe is hee,
Hell and death that must controule,
And speake the blessed Word, Be free
To every true beleiving Soule:
Death has noe sting, nor Hell noe prize
Through his meritts great, whilst wee
Travell to Eternity,
And with the blessed Angells sing
Hosanna's to the Heavenly King.
Cho.: Rise then, O rise, and let your voyces
Tell the spheeres your Soule rejoyces.
In Beth'lem this auspitious morne,
The glorious Sonn of God is borne.
The sonn of Glory, Prince of Peace,
Brings mercy that will never cease,
Meritts that wipe away the sin
Each humaine Soule was forfeit in;
And washing of the fatall staine,
Man to his Maker knitts againe:
Joyne then your gratefull notes, and sing
Hosanna's to the Heavenly King.