Sir John Suckling - Upon Christ His Birth

Lyrics
Strange news! a city full? will none give way To lodge a guest that comes not every day? No inn, nor tavern void? yet I descry One empty place alone, where we may lie: In too much fullness is some want: but where? Men's empty hearts: let's ask for lodging there But if they not admit us, then we'll say Their hearts, as well as inns, are made of clay
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Credits
- Writers
- Sir John Suckling