This Little Babe

So thanks be to God, it happened. I got the Spirit. More accurately, I got completely bowled over by how absolutely incredible this whole incarnation event really was. We were singing the First Noel and it hit me how giant a thing Christmas was - it was such a cosmic event that a celestial choir felt the need to break through the veil and proclaim their excitement to humanity. Perhaps they just feared we would miss this all-important shift in the universal scheme of things, so they had to come and say, "Wake up! Look at what's happening! This is huge!". Whyever the angels considered it necessary to go beyond the usual proper boundaries of heaven and earth, their message rings true for us now.

This Little Babe

This little Babe so few days old,
Is come to rifle Satan's fold;
All hell doth at his presence quake,
Though he himself for cold do shake;
For in this weak unarmed wise
The gates of hell he will surprise.

With tears he fights and wins the field,
His naked breast stands for a shield;
His battering shot are babish cries,
His arrows look of weeping eyes,
His martial ensigns Cold and Need,
And feeble Flesh his warrior's steed.

His camp is pitched in a stall,
His bulwark but a broken wall;
The crib his trench, haystalks his stakes;
Of shepherds he his muster makes;
And thus as sure his foe to wound,
The angels' trumps alarum sound.

My soul, with Christ join thou in fight;
Stick to the tents that he hath pight.
Within his crib is surest ward;
This little Babe will be thy guard.
If thou wilt foil thy foes with joy,
Then flit not from this heavenly Boy.

Robert Southwell, c.1561-95