RUN, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears, We bring the best of news; be not dismayed; A Saviour there is born more old than years, Amidst heaven's rolling height this earth who stayed. In a poor cottage inned, a virgin maid A weakling did Him bear, who all upbears; There is He poorly swaddled, in manger laid, To whom too narrow swaddlings are our spheres; Run, shepherds, run and solemnise his birth. This is that night—no, day grown great with bliss, In which the power of Satan broken is: In heaven be glory, peace unto the earth! Thus singing, through the air the angels swam, And cope of stars reëchoéd the same. |