THE Kings to the Stable They brought sweet spice, The gold and the silver, And jewels of price. But the Dove by the manger She would not cease Mourning so softly: Bring Him Peace; bring Him Peace! The Kings from the Orient Brought nard and clove. The Dove went mourning: Bring Him Love; Bring Him Love. What would content Him In silver and gold,-- A new-born Baby But one hour old? Not myrrh shall please Him Nor the ambergris, What hath sweet savour Of His mother`s kiss? There is clash of battle, And men hate and slay: From the noise and the tumult She hides Him away. But His sleep is fitful In His Mother`s breast, The Dove goes mourning: Give Him rest; give Him rest!SourceThe script ran 0 seconds.
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