Christmas Address, PS. 2

Christmas Address, PS. 2

Kiss the Son, the promis'd child,

Oh! hail him, long foretold!

He comes to earth, in mercy mild,

A richer gift than gold.

Kiss the Son, the babe most sweet!

Who from the realms above;

In transport left his jasper seat,

With purposes of love.

Kiss the Son, whom angels sung,

On this auspicious morn;

While, the aerial regions rung,

With there's - a Saviour born.

Kiss the Son, whom sagas sought,

Lead by a meteor bright;

And found him in an humble spot,

Rejoicing at the sight.

Kiss the Son the PHOSPHOR bright!

Aurora's fair adorn;

That dissipates the shades of night,

From this dark world, forlorn.

Kiss the Son, refulgent gem!

Of glory's boundless ring,

The nation's beauteous diadem,

The gracious Priest and King!

Kiss the Son, the mirror of love!

Whose nature is divine;

He is ador'd by all above,

In whom all glories shine.

Kiss the Son, the peaceful King!

Who can his love untold?

Oh! let his praises loudly ring,

On purer harps than gold.

V.D.M.

1:41, p. 164

1827.12.21