 | At Sunset |  |
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CHRISTMAS
In highest heaven a new-born star
Unveils its radiance from afar;
The while, upon her first-born child,
The mother of an hour has smiled.
Unveils its radiance from afar;
The while, upon her first-born child,
The mother of an hour has smiled.
To what a rustic nursery
Cometh this dear nativity!
No hostelry our Babe receives.
Upon the refuse of the sheaves
Is pillowed that sweet forehead, born
To feel the sharpness of the thorn.
Cometh this dear nativity!
No hostelry our Babe receives.
Upon the refuse of the sheaves
Is pillowed that sweet forehead, born
To feel the sharpness of the thorn.
Pious souls, in Orient warned,
Seek the Presence unadorned.
Journeying far, they would inquire
Where doth rest the mystic fire
That shall ravish land and sea
With a new divinity.
Seek the Presence unadorned.
Journeying far, they would inquire
Where doth rest the mystic fire
That shall ravish land and sea
With a new divinity.
Regal gifts the pilgrims bear,—
Gold and myrrh and incense rare.
Soon the offered sweet perfume
Consecrates the stable room:
While, from out the wintry gloom,
Leaping Dawn uplights the skies,
Shows the Babe to reverent eyes.
Gold and myrrh and incense rare.
Soon the offered sweet perfume
Consecrates the stable room:
While, from out the wintry gloom,
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Shows the Babe to reverent eyes.
Soon thou, dear Child, wilt leave thy play,
Mimic dance, and roundelay;
By some deep whisper in thy breast
Sent on Truth's immortal quest;
In thy young reason, tender still,
Shaping the fated fight with ill.
Mimic dance, and roundelay;
By some deep whisper in thy breast
Sent on Truth's immortal quest;
In thy young reason, tender still,
Shaping the fated fight with ill.
Thou shalt learn the humble trade
That for thee no cradle made;
Eat the peasant's homely fare,
His unfashioned garments wear.
While thy royalty of soul
Doth foreshadow its control
Over ages yet unborn
That shall bless thy natal morn.
That for thee no cradle made;
Eat the peasant's homely fare,
His unfashioned garments wear.
While thy royalty of soul
Doth foreshadow its control
Over ages yet unborn
That shall bless thy natal morn.
Ah, sorrow! that thy fair spring-tide
The martyr's mission must abide,
Thy thought with saintly daring probe
The festering ulcers of the globe;
While reckless multitudes will stand
To pierce and bind thy healing hand,
And thy manhood's fixed intent
Leads to Calvary's ascent.
The martyr's mission must abide,
Thy thought with saintly daring probe
The festering ulcers of the globe;
While reckless multitudes will stand
To pierce and bind thy healing hand,
And thy manhood's fixed intent
Leads to Calvary's ascent.
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O joy! that far beyond the cross,
Its bitter pain, its shame and loss,
Above the failure men might see
Truth's endless triumph crowneth thee!
Such a promise in thy birth,
Such a glory come to earth,
Such a tragedy divine
To be wrought in pangs of time,
Such redemption without end,
Brother, Master, Saviour, Friend!
Its bitter pain, its shame and loss,
Above the failure men might see
Truth's endless triumph crowneth thee!
Such a promise in thy birth,
Such a glory come to earth,
Such a tragedy divine
To be wrought in pangs of time,
Such redemption without end,
Brother, Master, Saviour, Friend!
| At Sunset | |