BEHOLD A SIMPLE, TENDER BABE / Christmas

BL. Robert Southwell, S.J., d.1595 / Francis E. Monaghan, C.S.B.

1	Behold a simple, tender Babe, In freezing winter night, In homely manger trembling lies: Alas! a piteous sight.
2	The inns are full; no man will yield This little Pilgrim bed; But forced He is with simple beasts In crib to shroud His head.
3	Despise Him not for lying there; First what He is inquire: An orient pearl is often found In depth of dirty mire.
4	Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish, Nor beasts that by Him feed; Weigh not His mother's poor attire, Nor Joseph's simple weed.
5	This stable is a Prince's court, This crib His chair of state, The beasts are parcel of His pomp, The wooden dish His plate.
6	The persons in that poor attire His royal liv'ries wear; The Prince Himself is come from heav'n. This pomp is prized there.
7	With joy approach, O Christian soul, Do homage to thy King; And highly praise this humble pomp, Which He from heav'n doth bring.