THE ANNUNCIATION.

UNTO the music of the spheres

Let men and angels join in consort theirs.
So great a messenger

From heaven to earth

Is seldom seen

Attired in so much glory :

A message welcomer,

Fraught with more mirth,

Hath never been

Subject of any story.

This by a double right, if any, may
Be truly styled the world's birthday.

The making of the world ne'er cost
So dear by much, as to redeem it lost.
God said but, Let it be!
And everything

Was made straightway

So as He saw it good:

But ere that He could see

A course to bring

Man gone astray

To the place where He stood,

His wisdom, with His mercy, for man's sake,
Against His justice part did take.

And the result was this day's news,
Able the messenger himself to amuse,
As well as her, to whom

By him 'twas told,
That though she were
A Virgin pure, and knew
No man, yet in her womb
A son she should

Conceive and bear,

As sure as God was true.

Such high place in His favour she possessed,
Being among all women blessed.

But blest especially in this,

That she believed, and for eternal bliss

Relied on Him, whom she

Herself should bear,

And her own son

Took for her Saviour.

And if there any be,

That when they hear,

As she had done

Suit their behaviour,

They may be blessed, as she was, and say

'Tis their Annunciation-day.

Christopher Harvey.

OUR hearts, O blessed God, incline
Thy true affection to embrace,
And that humility of Thine

Which for our sakes vouchsafed was.
Thy goodness teach us to put on,

As with our nature Thou wert clad, And so to mind what Thou hast done,

That we may praise Thee, and be glad.

For Thou not only heldst it meet
To send an angel from above,
An humble maid on earth to greet,

And bring the message of Thy love;
But, laying (as it were) aside.

Those glories none can comprehend (Nor any mortal eyes abide),

Into her womb Thou didst descend.

Bestow Thou also Thy respect

On our despised and low degree;
And, Lord, oh, do not us neglect,
Though worthy of contempt we be.
But through Thy messengers prepare,
And hallow so our hearts, we pray,
That (Thou conceived being there)
The fruits of faith bring forth we may.

George Wither.

OF royal line, of holy heart,

But poor, and mean, and lowly bred,

Was she upon whose mother-breast

The Lord Christ laid His infant head.

Beneath no lofty palace-roof

The flower was nursed all bright and pure, Within whose fragrant cup lay hid

That precious seed, a whole world's cure.

Beside the poor man's humble door
His snowy wing the angel stayed;
And to the peasant's promised bride

He said, "Hail, highly favoured maid!"

He spake of God's mysterious will;

While marvelled much the maiden mild, As the rapt stranger gladly poured

The wonders of her heaven-sent Child.

Then meekly bowed the Virgin's head,
As deep her thoughtful soul adored
"Be it to me as thou hast said,

Behold the handmaid of the Lord!"

;

Most loved, most favoured, whose young arm
Was cradle for her Saviour's rest;
Above all women honoured high,

Above all earthly creatures blest.

Alas! that human hearts have erred,
Profaning her dear name with words
That would have grieved her lowly heart,
With prayers that should be all her Lord's.

We bless her with a meeter love,

And think the while, with awful praise, Who said, "Yea, rather blest are they

Who hear My word, and choose My ways."

C. F. H.