---

Henry Vaughan - The Incarnation,
Work rating: Low

LORD, when Thou didst Thyself undress, 
    Laying by Thy robes of glory, 
To make us more, Thou wouldst be less, 
    And becam`st a woful story. 

To put on clouds instead of light, 
    And clothe the morning-star with dust, 
Was a translation of such height 
    As, but in Thee, was ne`er express`d. 

Brave worms and earth ! that thus could have 
    A God enclos`d within your cell, 
Your Maker pent up in a grave, 
    Life lock`d in death, heav`n in a shell ! 

Ah, my dear Lord ! what couldst thou spy 
    In this impure, rebellious clay, 
That made Thee thus resolve to die 
    For those that kill Thee every day ? 

O what strange wonders could Thee move 
    To slight Thy precious blood, and breath ? 
Sure it was love, my Lord ! for love 
    Is only stronger far than death !
Source
The script ran 0.004 seconds.