Behold a Simple, Tender Babe
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1. Behold a simple, tender Babe,
In freezing winter night,
In homely manger trembling lies:
Alas! a piteous sight.
2. The inns are full; no man will yield
This little Pilgrim bed;
But forced He is with simple beasts
In crib to shroud His head.
3. Despise Him not for lying there;
First what He is inquire:
An orient pearl is often found
In depth of dirty mire.
4. Weigh not His crib, His wooden dish,
Nor beasts that by Him feed;
Weigh not His mother's poor attire,
Nor Joseph's simple weed.
5. This stable is a Prince's court,
This crib His chair of state,
The beasts are parcel of His pomp,
The wooden dish His plate.
6. The persons in that poor attire
His royal liv'ries wear;
The Prince Himself is come from heav'n.
This pomp is prized there.
7. With joy approach, O Christian soul,
Do homage to thy King;
And highly praise this humble pomp,
Which He from heav'n doth bring.
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