An offer of love to our new-borne Saviour

Sith in the Inne no roome they will afford,
Take up thy lodging in my breast, deare Lord,
Where for a Cradle let my panting heart
Rocke thee asleepe, that dost true rest impart;
And for thy swadling bands, my Muse shall bring
Strong Lines, that binde the passions of a King.
O this poore offer wouldst thou take deare Lord,
A heartier welcome should no flesh afford.