Words: William Drummond of Hawthornden (1585-1649)
Source: The Poems of William Drummond of Hawthornden, Edited With a Memoir and Notes by William C. Ward, Vol. 2 of 2. (London: Lawrence and Bullen, and New York: Chas. Scribner's Sons, 1894), pp. 7-8. Originally published in Flowers of Sion in 1630 by John Hart.
run where Bethlem blest appears,
We bring the best of news, be not dismay'd,
A Saviour there is born, more old than years,
Amidst heaven's rolling heights this earth who stay'd :
In a poor cottage inn'd, a virgin maid
A weakling did him bear, who all upbears ;
There is he poorly swaddl'd, in manger laid,
To whom too narrow swaddlings are our spheres :
Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize his birth,
This is that night no, day, grown great with bliss,
In which the power of Satan broken is ;
In heaven be glory, peace unto the earth !
Thus singing, through the air the angels swam,
Arid cope of stars re-echoed the same.
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