As I in hoary winter's
night stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat which made
my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what
fire was near,
A pretty Babe all burning bright did in the
air appear;
Who, scorched with excessive heat, such
floods of tears did shed
As though his floods should quench his
flames which with his tears
were fed.
"Alas!" quoth he, "but newly
born, in fiery heats I fry,
Yet none approach to warm their hearts or
feel my fire but I!
My faultless breast the furnace is, the
fuel wounding thorns,
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame
and scorns;
The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals,
The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled
souls,
For which, as now on fire I am to work them to their
good,
So will I melt into a bath to
wash them in my blood."
With this he vanished out of
sight and swiftly shrunk away,
And straight I called unto
mind that it was Christmas day.
