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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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