English poem
Untitled
2.
A holy, heavenly chime Rings fulness in of time, And on His Mother's breast Our Lord God ever-Blest Is laid a Babe at rest.
Stoop, Spirits unused to stoop, Swoop, Angels, flying swoop, Adoring as you gaze, Uplifting hymns of praise,-- "Grace to the Full of Grace!"
The cave is cold and strait To hold the angelic state. More strait it is, more cold, To foster and infold Its Maker one hour old.
Thrilled through with awestruck love, Meek Angels poised above, To see their Go