5. And softly handle Him; y'ad need,
Because the pretty Babe does bleed.
Poor pitied Child! who from Thy stall
Bring'st, in Thy blood, a balm that shall
Be the best New-Year's gift to all.
1. Let's bless the Babe: and, as we sing
His praise, so let us bless the King.
Chor. Long may He live till He hath told
His New-Years trebled to His old:
And when that's done, to re-aspire
A new-born Phœnix from His own chaste fire.
99. GOD'S PARDON.
When I shall sin, pardon my trespass here;
For once in hell, none knows remission there.
100. SIN.
Sin once reached up to God's eternal sphere,
And was committed, not remitted there.
101. EVIL.
Evil no nature hath; the loss of good
Is that which gives to sin a livelihood.