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The Burning Babe · Ririro.com - Poetry

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  Speaker 1: The burning babe, as I, in hoary winter's night, stood
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  Speaker 1: shivering in the snow, surprised I was with sudden heat
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  Speaker 1: which made my heart to glow, and lifting up a
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  Speaker 1: fearful eye to view what fire was near a pretty babe,
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  Speaker 1: all burning bright did in the air appear who scorched
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  Speaker 1: with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed, as
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  Speaker 1: though his floods should quench his flames, which with his
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  Speaker 1: tears were fed alas quoth he, but newly born in
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  Speaker 1: fiery heats, I fry. Yet none approached to warm their
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  Speaker 1: hearts or feel my fire, But I my faultless breast.
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  Speaker 1: The furnace is the fuel, wounding thorns. Love is the fire,
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  Speaker 1: and size the smoke, the ashes, shame and scorns the fuel.
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  Speaker 1: Justice layeth on, and mercy blows the coals. The metal
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  Speaker 1: in this furnace rot are men's defiled souls, for which,
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  Speaker 1: as now on fire, I am to work them to
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  Speaker 1: their good. So will I melt into a bath to
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  Speaker 1: wash them in my blood. With this, he vanished out
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  Speaker 1: of sight, and swiftly shrunk away, and straight I called
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  Speaker 1: unto mind that it was Christmas Day,