misc

Poem: Upon Christ His Birth


Strange news! a city full? will none give way
To lodge a guest that comes not every day?
No inn, nor tavern void? yet I descry
One empty place alone, where we may lie:
In too much fullness is some want: but where?
Men's empty hearts: let's ask for lodging there.
But if they not admit us, then we'll say
Their hearts, as well as inns, are made of clay.

- Sir John Suckling
Indexing:

Posts from This Journal by “hymnary” Tag

  • First Sunday in Lent

    (I'm trying to pray more for Lent, so if you have any prayer requests feel free to drop them in the comments.)

  • Sixth Sunday in Epiphany

    Lo! he comes, with clouds descending, Once for every sinner slain; Thousand, thousand saints attending Swell the triumph of His train: Alleluia,…

  • Fifth Sunday in Ephiphany

    Steal away, steal away, steal away to Jesus. Steal away, steal away home: I ain't got long to stay here. My Lord, he calls me, He calls me by…