AS I in hoary winter's night <br /> Stood shivering in the snow, <br />Surprised I was with sudden heat <br /> Which made my heart to glow; <br />And lifting up a fearful eye <br /> To view what fire was near, <br />A pretty babe all burning bright <br /> Did in the air appear; <br />Who, scorched with excessive heat, <br /> Such floods of tears did shed, <br />As though His floods should quench His flames, <br /> Which with His tears were bred: <br />'Alas!' quoth He, 'but newly born <br /> In fiery heats I fry, <br />Yet none approach to warm their hearts <br /> Or feel my fire but I! <br />'My faultless breast the furnace is; <br /> The fuel, wounding thorns; <br />Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke; <br /> The ashes, shames and scorns; <br />The fuel Justice layeth on, <br /> And Mercy blows the coals, <br />The metal in this furnace wrought <br /> Are men's defiled souls: <br />For which, as now on fire I am <br /> To work them to their good, <br />So will I melt into a bath, <br /> To wash them in my blood.' <br />With this He vanish'd out of sight <br /> And swiftly shrunk away, <br />And straight I called unto mind <br /> That it was Christmas Day.<br /><br />Robert Southwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-burning-babe/
