Sunday, 29 November 2015

What Child is This?

What Child is this Whose limbs so small
Are resting on the hay?
What gentle kiss on His mean shawl
Does Mother Mary lay?
Whence comes this star so big and bright
By golden rays encased?
In field not far, at dead of night,
It bid the shepherds haste.

What shepherds these who are so called
To witness Jesus' birth?
They bend their knees in prayer enthralled,
Before the King of Earth.

A marvel great they all did see
On that first Christmas night.
In lowly state, from Jesse's tree,
No pomp for Him, no might,
Is Jesus born all hidden still,
From those who know Him not.
His wraps are torn, by His own will
From rags with soil and spot.

Some short days hence from lands far East
Three wise-men will appear.
In gilded tents, they rest and feast.
But Lo! They now draw near.

They do not know that their rich gifts
Foretell this Child's fate.
Amid the snow His joy uplifts,
But mockery and hate
Await the Child  Whose limbs so slight
Still shiver in the cold.
What babe so mild, lies here in sight
Of Kings and cattle bold?

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