The Burning Babe 歌词

	作曲 : Chris Wood
	作词 : Robert Southwell
	As I in hoary winter's night
	Stood shivering in the snow,
	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 bred:'
	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, shames 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 amTo work them to their good,
	So will I melt into a bath,
	To wash them in my blood.'
	With this
	He vanish'd out of sight
	And swiftly shrunk away,
	And straight
	I called unto mind
	That it was
	Christmas
	Day.

	zuo qu : Chris Wood
	zuo ci : Robert Southwell
	As I in hoary winter' s night
	Stood shivering in the snow,
	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 bred:'
	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, shames 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 amTo work them to their good,
	So will I melt into a bath,
	To wash them in my blood.'
	With this
	He vanish' d out of sight
	And swiftly shrunk away,
	And straight
	I called unto mind
	That it was
	Christmas
	Day.

	zuò qǔ : Chris Wood
	zuò cí : Robert Southwell
	As I in hoary winter' s night
	Stood shivering in the snow,
	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 bred:'
	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, shames 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 amTo work them to their good,
	So will I melt into a bath,
	To wash them in my blood.'
	With this
	He vanish' d out of sight
	And swiftly shrunk away,
	And straight
	I called unto mind
	That it was
	Christmas
	Day.

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