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tim graham - robert southwell - new prince, new pomp lyrics

behold, a seely tender babe
in freezing winter night
in homely manger trembling lies,—
alas, a piteous sight!
the inns are full, no man will yield
this little pilgrim bed
but forced he is with seely beasts
in crib to shroud his head
despise him not for lying there
first, what he is enquire
an orient pearl is often found
in depth of dirty mire
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
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
the persons in that poor attire
his royal liveries wear;
the prince himself is come from heaven—
this pomp is prized there
with joy approach, o christian wight
do homage to thy king;
and highly prize his humble pomp
which he from heaven doth bring

- tim graham lyrics

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