BIRTH—BORN.
Judah prevailed above his brethren, and of him came the chief ruler; but the birthright was Joseph’s.—I. Chronicles, v. 2.
Shall I bring to the birth, and not cause to bring forth? saith the Lord.—Isaiah, lxvi. 9.
And thou shalt have joy and gladness; and many shall rejoice at his birth.—Luke, i. 14.
Marvel not that I said unto thee, Ye must be born again.
The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the spirit.—John, iii. 7, 8.
My little children, of whom I travail in birth again until Christ be formed in you.—Galatians, iv. 19.
Whosoever is born of God doth not commit sin; for his seed remaineth in him: and he cannot sin, because he is born of God.—I. John, iii. 9.
Orient light,
Exhaling first from darkness, they beheld,
Birthday of heaven and earth.
Milton.
Thou hast been found
By merit, more than birthright, Son of God.
Milton.
While no baseness in my breast I find,
I have not lost the birthright of my mind.
Dryden.
They tell me ’tis my birthday, and I’ll keep it
With double pomp of sadness;
’Tis what the day deserves which brought me forth.
Dryden.
Mysterious love! that thou must recommence
Life and existence, and be born anew,
Born both of water and of spirit, whence
Spirit comes only, as flesh must flesh ensue:
And where it lists the wind shall blow, whose sound
Thou hearest, but know’st not—none—
Whence cometh it, nor whither it is bound;
And no man hath ascended into heaven
But he who thence came down, and bore the wound,
And perished that the world might be forgiven.
J. A. Heraud.
Let us learn the wondrous story,
Of our great Redeemer’s birth;
Spread the brightness of His glory,
Till it cover all the earth.
Hasten mortals to adore Him,
Till in heaven ye sing before Him.
Cawood.
Are all the memories of life
Buried when life has fled?
Are we forbid to keep again
The birthdays of the dead?
Time was when each successive year
Brought one bright day of mirth,
The looked-for anniversary
Of some belov’d one’s birth.
The birthday feasts of childhood’s age,
The feasts of riper years,
Remind us of like youthful joys
Remembered now with tears.
For they with whom those days were spent,
Have done with all on earth,
The fond home circle’s broken up
That hailed each day of birth.
Yet as the days come round again
Marked with affection’s seal,
Once more we think of those we’ve lost,
Once more their presence feel.
The blessed spirits now in Heaven,
May not such cycles keep,
Time metes not out their happiness,
They know not night or sleep.
Yet may they still retain the thoughts
Commemorating birth,
And haply still they keep in Heaven
The calender of Earth.
Far off are they, but still towards them
Our loving arms we spread,
And ever in our hearts we’ll keep
The birthdays of the dead.
George E. Shirley.