THE CHRIST CHILD
VIEW
IMAGE OF CHRIST CHILD ONLY
The Burning Babe
by St. Robert Southwell, Jesuit English Martyr
Surprised I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow,
And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,
A pretty Babe, all burning bright, did in the air appear,
Who,
scorched with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed
As though His floods should quench His flames which with His tears were
fed.
"Alas," quoth He, "but newly born, in fiery heats I fry,
Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I!
My
faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns,
Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and
scorns;
The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals.
The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled souls,
For
which, as now on fire I am to work them to their good,
So
will I melt into a bath to wash them in My blood."
With
this He vanished out of sight and swiftly shrunk away,
And
straight I called unto mind that it was Christmas day.
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