Classic Poem

Behold! a new-born tender Babe,
In freezy winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies;
Alas! a piteous sight!

The inns are full; no man will yield
This little guest a bed;
But forc'd he is, with silly beasts,
In crib to shroud his head.

Despise him not for lying there;
First, what he is, enquire;
An orient pearl has oft been found
Ev'n in a dirty mire.

Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish,
Nor beasts that by him feed;
Weigh not his mother's poor attire,
Nor Joseph's simple weed.

This stable is a Prince's court;
The crib his chair of state:
The beasts are parcels of his pomp,
The wooden dish his plate.

The persons in the poor attire,
His royal liv'ry wear:
The Prince himself is come from heav'n,
His pomp is prized there.

Let angels sing; let shepherds joy;
Let sages from afar,
By starry light directed here,
Adore the nobler Star.

Let all that bear the Christian name
Do homage to their King;
And highly praise his humble pomp,
Which he from heav'n did bring.

The sun that gilds the highest orb,
The Ruler of the skies,
Whose rays are under rags eclips'd,
Within the manger lies.

The heav'ns at all their light may blush;
The earth at all her pride;
Her potentates their sparkling crowns,
And trains may lay aside.

Of all their golden pompous robes
Asham'd her princes be,
When God's poor cottage on the earth
His clouts and crew they see.

Behold all glorious things below,
Their glory now despise;
Since God most high does earth's contempt,
More than her glory, prize.