There they in their trinal triplicities

About Him wait, and on his will depend,
Either with nimble wings to cut the skies

When He them on his messages doth send,
Or on his own dread presence to attend,
Where they behold the glory of his light,
And carol hymns of love both day and night.

Both day and night is unto them all one,

For He his beams doth unto them extend

That darkness there appeareth never none;

Nor hath their day, nor hath their bliss, an end, But there their timeless time in pleasure spend; Nor ever should their happiness decay

Had they not dared the Lord to disobey.

But pride, impatient of long-resting peace,

Did puff them up with greedy bold ambition, That they 'gan cast their state how to increase

Above the fortune of their first condition, And sit in God's own seat without commission: The brightest angel, e'en the 'child of light, Drew millions more against their God to fight.

The Almighty, seeing their so bold assay,

Kindled the flame of his consuming ire,
And with his only breath them blew away

From heaven's height, to which they did aspire,
To deepest hell and lake of damned fire,

Where they in darkness and dread horror dwell,
Hating the happy light from which they fell.

So that next offspring of the Maker's love,
Next to Himself in glorious degree,
Degenering2 to hate, fell from above

Through pride, (for pride and love may ill agree,)
And now of sin to all ensample be.

How then can sinful flesh itself assure,
Sith purest angels fell to be impure?

2 Degenerating.

But that eternal fount of love and grace,
Still flowing forth his goodness unto all,
Now seeing left a waste and empty place

In his wide palace, through these angels' fall,

Cast to supply the same, and to install

A new and unknown colony therein,

Whose root from earth's base ground-work should begin.

Therefore of clay, base, vile, and next to nought,

Yet formed by wondrous skill, and by his might, According to an heavenly pattern wrought,

Which He had fashioned in his wise foresight,

He man did make, and breathed a living sprite
Into his face most beautiful and fair,
Endued with wisdom's riches heavenly, rare.

Such He him made, that he resemble might

Himself as mortal thing immortal could;
Him to be lord of every living wight

He made by love out of his own like mould,
In whom He might his mighty self behold;
For love doth love the thing beloved to see,
That like itself in lovely shape may be.

But man, forgetful of his Maker's grace,

No less than angels whom he did ensue3,
Fell from the hope of promised heavenly place
Into the mouth of death, to sinners due,
And all his offspring into thraldom threw,
Where they for ever should in bonds remain
Of never-dead, yet ever-dying pain

Till that great Lord of Love, which him at first
Made of mere love and after liked well,

Seeing him lie like creature long accursed

In that deep horror of despairing hell,

Him wretch in dole4 would let no longer dwell,

But cast out of that bondage to redeem

And pay the price, all 5 were his debt extreme.

3 Follow,

4 Sorrow.

5 Although.

Out of the bosom of eternal bliss

In which He reigned with his glorious sire, He down descended, like a most demiss6

And abject thrall, in flesh's frail attire, That He for him might pay sin's deadly hire, And him restore into that happy state In which he stood before his hapless fate.

In flesh at first the guilt committed was,

Therefore in flesh it must be satisfied;
Nor spirit, nor angel, though they man surpass,
Could make amends to God for man's misguide,
But only man himself, whose self did slide:
So taking flesh of sacred virgin's womb,
For man's dear sake He did a man become.

And that most blessed body, which was born
Without all blemish or reproachful blame,
He freely gave to be both rent and torn

Of cruel hands, who, with despiteful shame
Reviling Him that them most vile became,
At length Him nailed on a gallow-tree,
And slew the just by most unjust decree.

O blessed well of love! O flower of grace!
O glorious morning star! O lamp of light!

Most lively image of thy father's face,

Eternal King of Glory, Lord of Might,

Meek Lamb of God before all worlds belight", How can we thee requite for all this good? Or what can prize that thy most precious blood? Yet nought thou ask'st in lieu of all this love But love of us, for guerdons of thy pain. Ay me! what can us less than that behove?

Had He required life of us again,

Had it been wrong to ask his own again?

He gave us life, He it restored lost;
Then life were least that us so little cost.

6 Humble.

7 Named.

8 Reward.

But He our life hath left unto us free,

Free that was thrall, and blessed that was banned", Nor aught demands but that we loving be,

As He himself hath loved us aforehand, And bound thereto with an eternal band Him first to love that was so dearly bought, And next our brethren to his image wrought.

Him first to love great right and reason is,

Who first to us our life and being gave,

And after, when we fared had amiss,

Us wretches from the second death did save; And cast the food of life which now we have, Even He himself in his dear sacrament,

To feed our hungry souls unto us lent.

Then next we love our brethren that were made
Of that self mould and that self Maker's hand
That we, and to the same again shall fade,

Where they shall have like heritage of land,
However here on higher steps we stand,
Which also were with self-same price redeemed
That we, however of us light esteemed.

And were they not, yet sith that loving Lord
Commanded us to love them for his sake,
Even for his sake and for his sacred word,

Which is his last bequest He to us spake,

We should them love, and with their needs partake, Knowing that whatsoe'er to them we give

We give to Him by whom we all do live.

Such mercy He by his most holy reed 10

Unto us taught, and to approve it true,

Ensampled it by his most righteous deed,

Shewing us mercy (miserable crew!)

That we the like should to the wretches shew,
And love our brethren, thereby to approve
How much Himself that loved us we love.

9 Cursed.

10 Counsel.

Then rouse thyself, O Earth! out of thy soil,
In which thou wallowest like to filthy swine,
And dost thy mind in dirty pleasures moil,

Unmindful of that dearest Lord of thine;
Lift up to Him thy heavy-clouded eyne11,
That thou in sovereign bounty mayst behold,
And read through love his mercies manifold.
Begin from first where He encradled was

In simple cratch12, wrapt in a wad of hay Between the wilful ox and humble ass;

And in what rags, and in how base array, The glory of our heavenly riches lay, When Him the silly shepherds came to see Whom greatest princes sought on lowest knee.

From thence read in the story of his life

His humble carriage, his unfaulty ways,
His cankered foes, his fights, his toil, his strife,
His pains, his poverty, his sharp assays,
Through which He passed his miserable days,
Offending none and doing good to all,
Yet being maliced both of great and small.

And look, at last, how of most wretched wights
He taken was, betrayed, and false accused;
How with lies, scornful taunts, and fell despites

He was reviled, disgraced, and foul abused;

How scourged, how crowned, how buffeted, how bruised; And, lastly, how 'twixt robbers crucified,

With bitter wound through hands, through feet, and side!

Then let thy flinty heart, that feels no pain,
Empierced be with pitiful remorse;

And let thy bowels bleed in every vein

At sight of his most sacred heavenly corse,
So torn and mangled with malicious force;
And let thy soul, whose sins and sorrows wrought,
Melt into tears, and groan in grieved thought.

11 Eyes.

12 Manger.