Run, shepherds, run, where Bethlehem blest appears,
We bring the best of news; be not dismayed;
A Saviour there is born more old than years,
Amidst heaven’s rolling height this earth who stayed.
In a poor cottage inned, a virgin maid
A weakling did Him bear, who all upbears;
There is He poorly swaddled, in manger laid,
To whom too narrow swaddlings are our spheres:
Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize His birth.
This is that night—no, day, grown great with bliss,
In which the power of Satan broken is:
In heaven be glory, peace unto the earth!
Thus singing, through the air the angels swam,
And cope of stars re-echoèd the same.
WILLIAM DRUMMOND