Poems By Henry Nutcombe Oxenham. Third Edition |
 |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. | XXXIII.
THE MANGER OF THE HOLY NIGHT. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
 | Poems |  |
88
XXXIII. THE MANGER OF THE HOLY NIGHT.
O mystery of mysteries,
The Mighty God an Infant lies,
All cradled in a manger cold,
Coarse swaddling bands His limbs enfold!
Can this be He, of whom the seers have spoken,
This Jacob's star, of David's lineage sprung?
Sceptre of Israel, and is this Thy token?
Yea, thus the angel to the shepherds sung,
“Swathed in rude bands, and in a manger laid,
Behold your Saviour; be ye not afraid.”
The Mighty God an Infant lies,
All cradled in a manger cold,
Coarse swaddling bands His limbs enfold!
Can this be He, of whom the seers have spoken,
This Jacob's star, of David's lineage sprung?
Sceptre of Israel, and is this Thy token?
Yea, thus the angel to the shepherds sung,
“Swathed in rude bands, and in a manger laid,
Behold your Saviour; be ye not afraid.”
Baby Jesus, who dost lie
All helplessly, all silently,
Throned on Mary's feeble arms,
Veiled in childhood's simple charms;
Hail Jesus, hail! athwart the manger glowing
Scarce the faint light reveals Thy humble bed,
The while around chill midnight gusts are blowing,
And oxen stalled where angels fear to tread.
St. Joseph o'er that sight half wondering grieves,
But Mary ponders, worships, and believes.
All helplessly, all silently,
Throned on Mary's feeble arms,
Veiled in childhood's simple charms;
Hail Jesus, hail! athwart the manger glowing
Scarce the faint light reveals Thy humble bed,
The while around chill midnight gusts are blowing,
And oxen stalled where angels fear to tread.
St. Joseph o'er that sight half wondering grieves,
But Mary ponders, worships, and believes.
89
Baby Jesus, God most High,
Angel choirs adoringly,
In thousand, thousand circles wheeling,
Before Thy manger-throne are kneeling!
Though ox and ass in stupid awe be gazing,
Rude though the night-breeze, and the torch-light dim,
A light above all earthly light is blazing,
The loud “Excelsis” of the cherubim
Is sounding round Thee, soon shall Eastern kings
Pour at thy feet their costliest offerings.
Angel choirs adoringly,
In thousand, thousand circles wheeling,
Before Thy manger-throne are kneeling!
Though ox and ass in stupid awe be gazing,
Rude though the night-breeze, and the torch-light dim,
A light above all earthly light is blazing,
The loud “Excelsis” of the cherubim
Is sounding round Thee, soon shall Eastern kings
Pour at thy feet their costliest offerings.
Haste ye, twine the holly spray,
Be your offerings fresh and gay,
Be the altar-candles bright
For the mass this holy night;
Hail! Jesus, hail! Ten thousand shrines are gleaming,
Their odorous breath ten thousand censers fling;
Ten thousand, thousand choirs, as is beseeming,
Sound their glad homage to the Christ, the King.
Hail! Jesus, hail! great God, Thy power we own,
Prostrate we fall before Thy sacramental throne!
Be your offerings fresh and gay,
Be the altar-candles bright
For the mass this holy night;
Hail! Jesus, hail! Ten thousand shrines are gleaming,
Their odorous breath ten thousand censers fling;
Ten thousand, thousand choirs, as is beseeming,
Sound their glad homage to the Christ, the King.
Hail! Jesus, hail! great God, Thy power we own,
Prostrate we fall before Thy sacramental throne!
| Poems | |