Christmas Tree Lane, Altadena, Calif. Photo Courtesy Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce. OnTheMorningof Christ’sNativity By John Milton, 1629
T HIS is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heav’n’s eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That He our deadly forfeit should release, And with His Father work us a perpetual peace. T iAT glorious Form, that Light unsufferable, And that far-beaming blaze of Majesty, Wherewith He wont at Heav’n’s high council-table To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, He laid aside; and here with us to be, Forsook the courts of everlasting, day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.
S AY Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant God? Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome Him to this His new abode; Now while the Heav’n by the sun’s team untrod Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? S EE how from far upon thfe eastern road The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet: O run, prevent them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at His blessed feet; Have thou the honour first, thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the Angel Quire, From out His secret altar touch’d with hallow’d fire. TH E K I N G ’ S BUS I NE S S
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