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 his Maker, sorely grieving &emsp;That the first-made Adam fell, When he ate the fruit of sorrow, &emsp;Whose reward was death and hell, Noted then this Wood, the ruin &emsp;Of the ancient wood to quell.

For the work of our Salvation &emsp;Needs would have his order so, And the multiform deceiver's &emsp;Art by art would overthrow, And from thence would bring the med'cine &emsp;Whence the insult of the foe.

Wherefore, when the sacred fulness &emsp;Of th' appointed time was come, This world's Maker left His , &emsp;Sent the Heavenly Mansion from, And proceeded, God Incarnate, &emsp;Of the Virgin's Holy Womb.

Weeps the Infant in the manger &emsp;That in Bethlehem's stable stands; And His Limbs the Virgin Mother &emsp;Doth compose in swaddling bands, Meetly thus in linen folding &emsp;Of her the feet and hands.