The Burning Babe by Robert Southwell

The Burning Babe
Robert Southwell (1561(?)1595)
AS I in hoary winters night Stood shivering in the snow,
Surprised I was with sudden heat Which made my heart to glow;
And lifting up a fearful eye 5
To view what fire was near,
A pretty babe all burning bright Did in the air appear;
Who, scorchèd with excessive heat, Such floods of tears did shed, 10
As though His floods should quench His flames, Which with His tears were bred:
Alas! quoth He, but newly born In fiery heats I fry,
Yet none approach to warm their hearts 15
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, shames and scorns; 20
The fuel Justice layeth on, And Mercy blows the coals,
The metal in this furnace wrought Are mens defilèd souls:
For which, as now on fire I am 25
To work them to their good,
So will I melt into a bath, To wash them in my blood.
With this He vanishd out of sight And swiftly shrunk away, 30
And straight I callèd unto mind That it was Christmas Day.