Three Circumcision Poems by Robert Herrick

The New Year's Gift

That little pretty bleeding part
Of foreskin send to me :
And I'll return a bleeding heart,
For New-Year's gift to Thee.

 Rich is the gem that Thou did'st send,
Mine's faulty too and small ;
But yet this gift Thou wilt commend
 Because I send Thee all.

The New-Year's Gift: Or, Circumcision's Song
[Sung To The King In The Presence At Whitehall]

 1. Prepare for songs; He's come, He's come;
And be it sin here to be dumb,
And not with lutes to fill the room.

 2. Cast holy water all about,
And have a care no fire goes out,
But 'cense the porch and place throughout.

 3. The altars all on fire be;
The storax fries; and ye may see
 How heart and hand do all agree
To make things sweet.

 Chorus: Yet all less sweet than He.

 4. Bring Him along, most pious priest,
And tell us then, whenas thou seest
His gently-gliding, dove-like eyes,
And hear'st His whimpering and His cries;
How can'st thou this Babe circumcise?

 5. Ye must not be more pitiful than wise;
For, now unless ye see Him bleed,
Which makes the bapti'm, 'tis decreed
The birth is fruitless.

 Chorus: Then the work God speed.

 1. Touch gently, gently touch; and here
Spring tulips up through all the year;
And from His sacred blood, here shed,
May roses grow to crown His own dear head.

Chorus: Back, back again; each thing is done
With zeal alike, as 'twas begun;
Now singing, homeward let us carry
The Babe unto His mother Mary;
And when we have the Child commended
To her warm bosom, then our rites are ended.

Another New-Year's Gift: Or, Song For The Circumcision 

1. Hence, hence profane, and none appear
With anything unhallowed here;
No jot of leaven must be found
Conceal'd in this most holy ground.

 2. What is corrupt, or sour'd with sin,
Leave that without, then enter in;

 Chorus: But let no Christmas mirth begin

Before ye purge and circumcise
Your hearts, and hands, lips, ears, and eyes.

 3. Then, like a perfum'd altar, see
That all things sweet and clean may be:
For here's a Babe that, like a bride,
Will blush to death if ought be spi'd
Ill-scenting, or unpurifi'd.

 Chorus: The room is 'cens'd: help, help t' invoke
Heaven to come down, the while we choke
The temple with a cloud of smoke.

 4. Come then, and gently touch the birth
Of Him, who's Lord of Heaven and Earth:

 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.

Let's bless the Babe: and, as we sing
His praise, so let us bless the King.

Chorus: 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 Phoenix from His own chaste fire