Page:Complete Poems of Robert Southwell.djvu/214

Rh For which, as nowe on fire I am, to worke them to their good, So will I melt into a bath to washe them in My bloode: With this He vanisht out of sight, and swiftly shroncke awaye, And straight I callèd unto mynde that it was Christmas-daye.

to your heaven, yowe heavenly quires! Earth hath the heaven of your desires; Eemove your dwellinge to your God, A stall is nowe His beste aboade; Sith men their homage do denye, Come, angells, all their fault supply.

His chilling could doth heate require, Come, seraphins, in liew of fire; This little ark no cover hath, Let cherubs' winges His boody swath ;