His pretty hands are right tender and delicate, I touched
Him carefully. Then He gave me a smile and a deep sigh too. If you
were mine, thought I, you'd grow a merry boy. At home in the
kitchen I'd comfortably house you; out here in the stable the cold
wind comes in at every corner."
[23] Richard Rolle, poet, mystic, and wandering preacher, in many ways
reminds us of Jacopone da Todi. Though he has left no Christmas
verses, some lovely words of his show how deeply he felt the wonder
and pathos of Bethlehem: "Jhesu es thy name. A! A! that wondryrfull
name! A! that delittabyll name! This es the name that es above all
names.... I yede [went] abowte be Covaytyse of riches and I fand
noghte Jhesu. I satt in companyes of Worldly myrthe and I fand
noghte Jhesu.... Therefore I turnede by anothire waye, and I rane
a-bowte be Poverte, and I fande Jhesu pure borne in the worlde,
laid in a crybe and lappid in clathis."{28}
[24] "When midnight sounded I leapt from my bed to the floor, and I saw
a beautiful angel who sang a thousand times sweeter than a
nightingale. The watch-dogs of the neighbourhood all came up.
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