On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity
John Milton, 1608 – 1674
I This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven’s eternal King, Of wedded maid and Virgin Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. II That glorious Form, that Light unsufferable, And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, Wherewith he wont at Heaven’s high council-table To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, He laid aside, and, here with us to be, Forsook the Courts of everlasting Day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.
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