Here you will find the Poem The Incarnation, And Passion of poet Henry Vaughan
LORD, when Thou didst Thyself undress, Laying by Thy robes of glory, To make us more, Thou wouldst be less, And becam'st a woful story. To put on clouds instead of light, And clothe the morning-star with dust, Was a translation of such height As, but in Thee, was ne'er express'd. Brave worms and earth ! that thus could have A God enclos'd within your cell, Your Maker pent up in a grave, Life lock'd in death, heav'n in a shell ! Ah, my dear Lord ! what couldst thou spy In this impure, rebellious clay, That made Thee thus resolve to die For those that kill Thee every day ? O what strange wonders could Thee move To slight Thy precious blood, and breath ? Sure it was love, my Lord ! for love Is only stronger far than death !
