Henry Charles Beeching, ed. (1859–1919). Lyra Sacra: A Book of Religious Verse. 1903.
By Robert Southwell (1561?–1595)The Burning Babe
| AS 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, | 5 |
| As though His floods should quench His flames which with His tears were fed; | |
| 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 shame and scorns; | 10 |
| 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 vanished out of sight and swiftly shrunk away, | 15 |
| And straight I callëd unto mind that it was Christmas-day. | |