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Where is this blessed Babe
That hath made
All the world so full of joy
And expectation;
That glorious Boy
That crowns each nation
With a triumphant wreath of blessedness?
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Where should He be but in the throng,
And among
His angel-ministers, that sing
And take wing
Just as may echo to His voice,
And rejoice,
When wing and tongue and all
May so procure their happiness?
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But He hath other waiters now.
A poor cow,
An ox and mule stand and behold,
And wonder
That a stable should enfold
Him that can thunder.
Chorus. O what a gracious God have we!
How good! How great! Even as our misery.
Jeremy Taylor.