{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_75153/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_75153","id":"gutenberg_75153","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75153","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Poetry","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christmas poetry"],"text":"The Little Grey Lamb\n\n  And Other Christmas Poems\n\n\n  BY\n\n  HERBERT H. GOWEN\n\n\n\n  MOREHOUSE PUBLISHING CO.\n  MILWAUKEE, WIS.\n  A. R. MOWBRAY & CO.\n  LONDON\n\n\n\n\n  COPYRIGHT BY\n  MOREHOUSE PUBLISHING CO.\n  1928\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\nForeword\n\nThe Christmas Message\n\nI. The Little Grey Lamb\n\nII. Jerusalem, 1917\n\nIII. The Quest of the Christ\n\nIV. What the Wise Men Saw\n\nV. Under Which Sign?\n\nVI. Through the Windows\n\nVII. Over the House-Tops\n\nVIII. Shepherds of Men\n\nIX. No Room in the Inn\n\nX. Mother and Child\n\nXI. The Vision of the Kings\n\nXII. A Prayer for the New Year\n\n\n\n\nForeword\n\nIt has been a habit of mine, for some years, to send an annual\nChristmas greeting to my friends in the form of a little poem.  Of\nthe following selections most have been published in the annual\nChristmas number of the _Town-Crier_ of Seattle, whose editors kindly\npermit their reproduction.  They are reprinted because some have\nliked one or other of the poems sufficiently well to request this;\nalso because I feel that the treatment of the Christmas story may be\nfresh enough and varied enough to win the liking of some others.\nH.H.G.\n\n\n\n\nThe Christmas Message\n\nThe story is told that when King Edward I of England sought to\nreconcile the Welsh people to his rule he presented to the assembled\nchiefs his baby son, just born in Caernarvon Castle, as a native son\nof Wales to be their prince.  The king manifested in the act a very\nsound appreciation of what is, according to the Christmas story, the\nheart of the divine method for reconciling a rebellious world to God.\nFor the divine fact which makes the Christmas festival so dear to all\nalike, and draws together them that are afar off and them that are\nnigh is nothing less than that the Child who comes to reign in a\nworld of human hearts is truly named the Son of Man.\n\nThat the jarring interests of a warring world may be brought together\nin one common devotion to the best is always plain when we substitute\nthe child attitude for the selfish and sophisticated ideas of men\nsoiled by too long contact with material things.  And when men return\nto the child mind, with its simplicity, its purity, and its ready\nresponse to love, the world will certainly be a little nearer to that\nemulous heaven which yearns downward to touch the earth as the earth\nat Christmas time seems to be doing its best to reach the skies.  The\ncelebration of such a truth is the best antidote for the horrible\ndoctrine of an absentee God and of a humanity left to wander unaided\nin the dark.\n\nIn the great temple, Shi Tenno-ji, in Osaka, is the shrine of the\nGuiding Bell.  The rope is made up of the bibs of dead children, and\nlittle Japanese go thither in order that by ringing the bell they may\nhelp and be helped along the road to Paradise.  The Christmas bells\nare always guiding bells to all mankind.  Wherever they ring, whether\nthey sound only in the imagination which carries us back to the days\nof long ago, they summon man unfailingly to a Paradise wherein all\nmay become as little children in the spirit of faith and hope and\nlove.\n\nAnd wherever these bells are heard the heart will never cease to sing\nand dance away the dust of the world and charm men from the\nsordidness which keeps us back from entry within the gates of gold.\n\n\"A little child shall lead them\"--this is the veridical prophecy of\nthe good days to come.  In fulfilment of such a prophecy let us share\nthe good-heartedness and charity of the Christmas season.  Let us\nlend our ears to hear once more the song which, though it comes from\nheaven through the voice of angels, has its message for the souls of\nmen on earth.  Let us turn our backs upon the selfish and the\ndiscordant till the angelic anthem is echoed back with human voice to\nthe Throne of God.  Then heaven and earth shall have become one\nindeed.\n\n\n\n\nI.\n\nThe Little Grey Lamb\n\n_Founded upon an old legend_\n\n\n\n  The Little Grey Lamb\n\n  _A simple tale of long ago,\n  How the little grey lamb became white as snow._\n\n  On Bethlehem's hills on a winter night,\n  Shepherds kept watch in the cold star-light.\n  The sheep, safely folded, were fast asleep:\n  There was nought to trouble their slumber deep.\n    But one little grey lamb was filled with woe\n    For he longed to be white as the winter snow.\n\n  Then sudden the heavens grew bright like noon,\n  With a light which was neither of sun nor moon.\n  And music rained down ineffably sweet,\n  As the shepherds sprang to their trembling feet.\n    But the sheep slumbered on through that wonderful night,\n    Save the little grey lamb who longed to be white.\n\n  Then forth from the skies came an angel's voice:\n  \"Good tidings, ye shepherds!  God bids you rejoice.\n  In Bethlehem's inn the Child ye shall see,\n  Who is born to make all men happy and free.\"\n    Then swiftly they journeyed the Christ Child to find,\n    And the little grey lamb followed closely behind.\n\n  From his little white heart rose a timid prayer:\n  \"Is it only for men, O Baby most fair,\n  Thou hast cleansing from all that is sinful and bad?\n  Wilt Thou not heal me and make me glad?\"\n    So he followed the shepherds and entered with them,\n    When they came to the stable of Bethlehem.\n\n  They entered, they worshipped, and homeward returned,\n  While a solemn joy in their bosoms burned:\n  But the little grey lamb nestled close in the hay,\n  Quite close to the crib where the Baby lay.\n    And a tiny hand stole forth from the bed,\n    And rested awhile on the little lamb's head.\n\n  At that touch there passed a wonderful thrill\n  Through the lamb as he lay by the crib so still:\n  He felt all his sadness melting away,\n  As the night mists scatter at break of day.\n    The little grey lamb in that holy glow\n    Knew he was white as the driven snow.\n\n  * * *\n\n      _May the Christ Child today this blessing bestow,\n      That the lambs of His flock be made whiter than snow!_\n\n\n\n\nII.\n\nJerusalem, 1917\n\n_No incident of the Great War gripped the imagination of the\nChristian world so much as the taking of Jerusalem in December, 1917,\nby General (Lord) Allenby.  Though an incident in war, it yet had in\nit the promise of peace, since no shot was fired against the Holy\nCity and the victorious commander entered the city on foot without\nparade of war._\n\n\n\n  Jerusalem 1917\n\n  O Mother, with the halo round thy brow,\n  Yet conscious of the Cross which looms so near--\n  What is the grim surprise which greets thee now?\n  What spectre grips thy maiden heart with fear?\n\n  What is it that, with half-averted face,\n  Thou seest sweep across the holy land,\n  Where all the towers and domes of David's race\n  From age to age in silent witness stand?\n\n  How ill, meseems, become those sacred fields\n  The tramp of warriors and the blast of war,\n  The gleam of steel and shock of swords and shields,\n  The noise of cannon booming from afar!\n\n  Is this the peace the angels sang when high\n  The glory burst upon the shepherds lone?\n  Is this the promised dawn when all the sky\n  Flamed with good news from Heaven's Almighty Throne?\n\n  Yet constant shines the Star from out the dark,\n  Heaven's finger touching earth with silvery ray.\n  Though Time tell of despair and misery stark,\n  Eternity assures us of the day.\n\n  O Mother with the sword within thy breast,\n  The Child Divine within thine arms may see,\n  E'en from thy lap, the issue sure, the rest\n  For man appointed after victory.\n\n  And when, in later years, He shall ascend\n  The painful Cross, He shall be satisfied,\n  And all the travail and the strife shall blend\n  In manhood, saved, redeemed, beatified.\n\n  O Child, in Mother's arms thus nurs'd and held,\n  Give us from love like her's to wake and rise,\n  Till from the Cross we see the dark dispell'd,\n  The City of God descending from the skies.\n\n  Give us Thy courage firm, Thy patience long,\n  Thy willingness to suffer for the right;\n  O give us of Thy faith, Thy love so strong,\n  The vision of the victory of the right.\n\n  Jerusalem, encompassed with arms,\n  Shall yet become the city of the free,\n  And discord, hatred, war, and war's alarms\n  Shall disappear for all eternity.\n\n\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe Quest of the Christ\n\n_The picture this poem was intended to illustrate represents one in\nvision beholding the Wise Men on their camels journeying towards the\ngoal of their quest._\n\n\n\n  The Quest of the Christ\n\n  In the dark night, while all around me sleep,\n  My questing thoughts go backward through the years,\n      To find and bring some worthy thing\n  Shall waken life from out its slumber deep--\n  Shall scatter lowering clouds of doubts and fears,\n      And crown Love King.\n\n  Taking old forms from tales of days long dead,\n  Like slow beasts padding softly through the night--\n      Yet, far or nigh, I shall descry\n  Somewhere my Bethlehem--so piloted\n  By tinkling bells of hope that catch the light\n      Of star-lit sky.\n\n  I know not where my search for Christ shall end--\n  The kings and priests I question answer not.\n      Perhaps their will is still to kill:--\n  Perchance He seeks to walk with me as friend:--\n  Or, all unknown, shares the despised one's lot,\n      Rejected still.\n\n  Yet am I sure that I shall know the sign;\n  My heart shall wake and cry: \"This--This is He!\"\n      Him shall I find, however blind\n  And slow to recognize the hand divine.\n  He shall His own unfailing witness be:--\n      Him shall I find.\n\n  And, oh, what joy the news abroad to speed,\n  That men from sorrow as from toil who sleep\n      May hear the song that Heaven's throng\n  Brings down to earth, and so be comforted\n  For woes that make strong men like women weep,\n      And all the wrong.\n\n  Then all the dark shall melt into the dawn;\n  Like jewels of the New Jerusalem,\n      Earth's streets shall shine with light divine,\n  And all her roof-tops gladden with the morn;\n  Then every home shall be a Bethlehem\n      Where Christ is born.\n\n\n\n\nIV.\n\nWhat the Wise Men Saw\n\n_Founded upon an old legend_\n\n\n\n  What the Wise Men Saw\n\n  Back to their homes returned, the Wise Men three\n      Reported on the King they went to see.\n  Said they: \"The star our guide, the King we found;\n      Now are we hither come His praise to sound.\"\n  Then said the Wisest of them all: \"'Tis well;\n      What was He like?  First let the youngest tell.\"\n\n      \"What was He like?  Why, this my task\n        Is surely easy, answering what you ask.\n      He was so young: His was the spirit of youth,\n        Ardent and hopeful, forward-faced; in truth,\n      His courage seemed to leap from height to height,\n        Like golden sunshine driving back the night.\n          So I my beating heart obeyed;\n          My fine gold at His feet I laid.\"\n\n  \"And you, our next in years, what did you see\n      In this your King?  Pray, tell, what like was He?\"\n\n      \"What was He like?  Yea, sir, although\n        Not as my brother saw Him saw I so.\n      His was our manhood's prime; from out His eyes\n        Experience looked, and wisdom: sacrifice\n      Waited the altar whereon lifted high,\n        Bruised but not crushed, He saw His destiny.\n          So drew I incense from my store,\n          Bruised too, but odorous the more.\"\n\n  \"Well said!  But you, our eldest, tell us, pray:\n      What was He like?  How saw you Him that day?\"\n\n      \"What was He like?  I saw Him sage\n        With all the gifts that spring from ripest age;\n      Eyes that beheld the eternal; youth and prime\n        Both clean forgot, with all the things of time;\n      Beyond all earthly effort, passion, strife;\n        Beyond all heart-ache, pain or lust of life.\n          I could not Him my myrrh deny,\n          In readiness with Him to die.\"\n\n  Then some, less wise than meet, looked up and smiled.\n      Surely, they said, our brethren were beguiled,\n  And took, for all their questing, but the thing\n      In their own hearts for Him, the Lord, the King.\n\n  \"Nay, Nay!\" the Wisest answered; \"for I deem\n    The King fulfils for each his dearest dream,\n  Hear me, for though these mortal eyes are blind,\n    Within my soul I seem the King to find.\n\n      \"As in a mirror's polished face\n        The lineaments of him that looks you trace,\n      So in the King reflected back you see\n        The likelihood of all you fain would be:\n          The all beyond your all, the goal\n          Of every striving of your soul.\n\n      \"Whate'er your age or station be,\n      He looketh eye to eye, so that you see\n      The very self of self which God did plan\n      When first He said: 'Behold, I make a man.'\n          And with the vision given is the dower\n          Of the King's own communicable power.\"\n\n\n\n\nV.\n\nUnder Which Sign?\n\n_On the one hand is a world of material things, a murky,\nsmoke-dominated world in which men struggle and hate and fight.  On\nthe other side of the picture a star shines over the place where the\nChrist Child lies as the prophet and earnest of the good time to\ncome._\n\n\n\n  Under Which Sign?\n\n  Watchman, what of the night?  What of the day that's to dawn?\n  Is it bale-fire, battle, and blood?  Is it hate in a land forlorn?\n  Is it benison, brotherhood, peace--peace to the near and the far?\n  Shall the earth with its phantoms beguile, or God utter Himself\n      through His star?\n  Blow, O ye winds of heaven, mighty the dark to dispel!\n  Shine, star of hope, on our world, vexed with delusions of hell!\n\n  Lure of the delved ore, mock-sun of our low estate!\n  Shadowed, time-born and time-doomed, on the hell-gendered\n      smoke-clouds of hate!\n  Shalt thou win for thy gloom-spread realm the limitless vault\n      of the sky?\n  With thy will-o-the-wisp wilt thou quench the lights of Eternity?\n  Shall thy angels proclaim from beneath the coming kingship of wrong?\n  'Glory of hate and ill-will!'--Shall this be our Christmas song?\n\n  Rout of poor, purblind souls: Have ye found your Bethlehem here--\n  Godless, and brotherless, fighting, in shame and sorrow and fear?\n  With your dollar for star would ye seek the goal of your\n      heart's desire?\n  Greet, as ye bloodily battle, the victor as king and Messiah?\n  Trample the noble and pure into slush to proclaim yourselves free?\n  Is your struggle success at the last, your victory liberty?\n\n  Dark beyond all the dark!  Deep Heart of Eternity,\n  Whence streameth the starlight divine, from bounds of infinity!\n  Love that beats in the dark--beats and breaks through from afar!\n  Passionate purpose of God, breaking through in the signalling star!\n  Omnipotent Love, finding voice in evangel insistent as strong,\n  Streaming forth for our earth in angelical presence and song!\n\n  Child, with the out-stretched arms and heaven-uplifted eyes!\n  To Thy pure heart alone comes the message of the skies.\n  Yet out of thy joy shalt thou speak; yea, to all the world\n      shalt thou cry:\n  \"Turn ye, O perishing fools!  O turn ye, why will ye die?\n  See, 'yond the rolling clouds shines the coming kingdom of peace,\n  Where all men shall mingle as brothers and wars and discords\n      shall cease!\"\n\n  Child!  Nay, Prophet! we hail thee--Lord of the future age!\n  In a world of the sightless, seeing; in a world of the\n      foolish, sage!\n  Faint not nor fail in thy witness, though the world around\n      thee grow old;\n  Let not thy faith grow feeble; O let not thy love grow cold!\n  Interpret the times to our time; interpret thy hope to the race.\n  That the glory which shines in thine eyes may illumine\n      humanity's face!\n\n  * * * * *\n\n  Watchman, what of the night?  Cometh the dawn from afar!\n  Dreams pass away and clouds scatter.  We will trust the voice\n      of the Star.\n\n\n\n\nVI.\n\nThrough the Windows\n\n_Some children from within a bare and comfortless room are looking\nforth upon a wintry night.  The world outside is bleak and pitiless.\nThe very church seems empty of suggestion till one notes how the\nspire with silent finger is pointing to the Christmas Star._\n\n\n\n  Through the Windows\n\n  \"_It came and stood over where the young Child was._\"\n\n  Winter--and winter's gloom--without, within--\n  The ice on heart and hearth and sunless earth!\n  Cling close, ye hapless victims of man's sin--\n  Companions sad of misery and dearth!\n\n  Cold church, thy heavenward-pointing spire appeals\n  To empty skies, all heartless, voiceless, dumb.\n  No clang of bells through all the city peals.\n  O grieving ones, your very griefs are numb.\n\n  Yet see!  Thank God for windows!  From afar,\n  Sweet envoy from a world where all is bright,\n  Behold, in silver radiance shines the star,\n  Distilling through the dark its healing light.\n\n  Over the place where hearts are sore and lone;\n  Over the place where priests and creeds of late\n  Have stammered news of God and man at one,\n  And seen men doubt and sleep, and wake to hate.\n\n  O windows, made for light to enter in!\n  The Light is there, beyond the darkened sky.\n  To reach, impinge, and pass your barrier thin,\n  To lift our captive, earth-bound souls on high!\n\n  Come to the windows!  There adoring kneel!\n  Beyond your aching hearts the Heart Divine!\n  Heart seeking heart, beyond where systems wheel,\n  Seeking, yea, finding!  Lo, the starry sign!\n\n  O Hand that leads yon Star that shall not fail!\n  O Eye that watches through each guiding ray!\n  O Home, beyond our habitations frail!\n  O Church, complete in Heaven's eternal day!\n\n  Be ever for us all 'above the place,'\n  Bringing all comfort, joy, assurance, peace!\n  Healing the desperate sorrow of the race,\n  From all earth's discords gaining glad release!\n\n  O Lord of Light and Life, grant us to know,\n  Through windows crystal-clear of faith and love,\n  Beyond our winter night of grief and woe,\n  The steadfast Star still shines our world above!\n\n\n\n\nVII.\n\nOver the House-Tops\n\n_Above the house-tops of a big, modern city, with its skyscrapers and\nits factory chimneys, the vision passes across the clouds of the Wise\nMen on their way to Bethlehem._\n\n\n\n  Over the House-tops\n\n  God knew no wings were mine; I could not soar\n  Into the unplumb'd heavens' ethereal vault.\n  E'en could I climb the hills, the infinite more\n  Of space above had left me still at fault.\n  Yet hath He will'd that I should reach the light,\n  Accepting steps let downward to my feet,\n  That I should find His ladder in the night\n  From shop and office, factory and street.\n  Yea, when the heavy-headed toilers sleep--\n  Life from day's fret and fume awhile immune,--\n  When darkling shrouds of night their sentry keep,\n  The heavens with the house-tops hold commune.\n  Then am I one with all the quests of old,\n  With all the wise ones whom the stars of night,\n  No wandering waifs of space, their message told\n  And crowned their heads with aureole of light.\n  These loved not earth the less that she provides\n  Foothold for souls whose gaze may pierce the skies;\n  Time's many travailings and changing tides\n  Made past and future equal in their eyes.\n  And this the song that, soundless, thrills the air--\n  One with the voice of human hearts that beat\n  Their living diapason to the prayer,\n  One with snow peaks that soar, still waters at our feet:\n\n\n  (1)\n\n  Up to the house-tops of Faith, ye sons and daughters of Doubt,\n  Up from the dungeons of Time, where sick and imprisoned ye lie!\n      Out from your wilderment waken,\n      Deem not the world God-forsaken!\n  Come ye, for, piercing the night, see the star in the sky\n    shining out,\n  Splendid o'er mountain and moonlight, Faith's witness which\n    none may deny.\n  See, we are here, for your helping, your bodiless pilots of old,\n  We whose example and aid all the world's patient pilgrims made bold.\n      Slow Science has humbled her pride;\n      She takes us and trusts as her guide;\n      For we are the prophets and seers\n      Who lead on the hesitant years;\n      We follow the spirit's surmise,\n      We hear the voices of night;\n      Already there dawns on our prescient eyes\n      The Sun of Eternity's morn, the kingdom of limitless light!\n\n\n  (2)\n\n  Up to the house-tops of Hope, ye downcast sons of Despair,\n  Ye whom experience has cheated and left defeated and bare!\n      Back to your childhood's fond dreaming--\n      Truer was this than your deeming!\n  Up from the purlieus of earth where men stifle and struggle\n    for air;\n  Catch from the roof-tops the joy of the vision outshining\n    our prayer!\n  Lo, where we stand, we are yours, whom the world hath not\n    shaken nor shocked,\n  We who still hoped and went on, though the multitudes melted\n    and mocked.\n      Yet fainting hearts watched from afar\n      And followed our beckoning star,\n      For God made us Hope's pioneers,\n      To hearten men out of their fears!\n      While the myriads wander and stray\n      In the mists of a starless night,\n      We are steadfast and march on our forward way,\n      On to Eternity's morn, to the kingdom of limitless light!\n\n\n  (3)\n\n  Up to the house-tops of Love, ye generations of Hate,\n  Up from the man-made hells where ye struggle and slander and slay!\n      Up from your loveless stagnation,\n      Up from your hearts' slow starvation!\n  Come, for humanity calls to the heights where all benisons wait,\n  Speaking through stars of the night of the luminous earnest of day!\n  See we are round you, your brothers, the soldiers and martyrs\n    of Love,\n  Who poured forth our souls like a river, and labored and suffered\n    and strove!\n      From the flame and the gallows-tree,\n      From the life-long, slow agony,\n      Oh, we climbed up our Calvary,\n      So winning Love's victory.\n      We followed the Lord of the Star,\n      Who died to discover Love's might!\n      God grant we may herald to men near and far\n      The dawn of the kingdom of Love, the kingdom of limitless light!\n\n\n\n\nVIII.\n\nShepherds of Men\n\n_The picture for which this was written shows the shepherds standing\nover their slumbering flock under the shelter of a great rock.  To\nthem appears an angel, his feet almost touching the ground, bearing\nin one hand a star and raising the other hand to call attention to\nhis message._\n\n\n\n  Shepherds of Men\n\n  Shepherds of men--not sheep--\n  Your age-long watch who keep,\n  Have ye grown weary waiting for the light?\n  Are ye resigned to see\n  Your silly charges free\n  To wander lost and helpless in the night--\n  For whom the word was given of old\n  That all should reach at last the eternal fold?\n\n  Or, sunken in despair,\n  Deem ye the cruel lair\n  Of wolf and lion safe as man's domain?\n  Think ye too deep, too deep,\n  The human lies asleep,\n  And nought but beast awake in blood and brain?\n  Is there no inward-turning eye,\n  No pitiful great yearning for the sky?\n\n  Or faint you at the dearth\n  Of comfort in the earth?\n  Is Nature with the bad in man and beast\n  So straitly leagued the rocks,\n  That shelter now your flocks,\n  Might flow like lead from furnace fires released,\n  And e'en the soil on which you tread\n  Prove fleeting as the clouds above your head?\n\n  Have all your passionate cries\n  'Gainst solid-seeming skies\n  Shivered and fallen in mocking echoes back?\n  Does prayer in vain assail?\n  Do tears for nought avail?\n  Does the bright maze of stars all language lack?\n  A world where struggles, griefs, desires,\n  Make streams in hell but light not heaven's fires?\n\n  Bless\u00e9d, O Shepherds, ye,\n  Who now the glory see,\n  Though still your flock for vision unalert!\n  Light lifted not too high,\n  Nor opening quite the sky,\n  Yet quickening skyward yearnings long inert;\n  Yea, making pathways for the feet\n  To find the spot where earth and heaven meet!\n\n  Bless\u00e9d, again, since, borne\n  Unto a world forlorn,\n  Heaven's herald comes, yet no-wise alien!\n  Of heaven the cross-like wings,\n  Yet man's the voice that rings,\n  Human the eyes that meet the eyes of men;\n  Human the feet that seek the ground;\n  Human the hands that scatter light around!\n\n  O Star, with heaven-born beams,\n  Awake us from our dreams!\n  O clothed with light, miraculous messenger,\n  Set us upon the way\n  To greet the coming day,\n  Where, worshipping the Very Light, it were\n  Foretaste of Heaven's eternal peace--\n  Of earth's unquiet wanderings surcease!\n\n  Shepherds, forget your fear!\n  The dawn, the dawn is near!\n  Though upstart Herod and the Roman might\n  Combine with all the tribe\n  Of faithless priest and scribe\n  To quench in mists of unbelief the light,\n  The long-expected King's at hand,\n  To rule in peace and righteousness the land!\n\n  Say you the vision fades,\n  While all around the shades\n  Creep coldly on and all your courage dies?\n  Go forth, while round you ring\n  Strains ye heard angels sing\n  When all heaven flashed upon your startled eyes.\n  For though your vision fade away,\n  'Tis but that dawn may broaden into day.\n\n  The Child your eyes shall see,\n  As yet laid lowlily,\n  Not yet full-statured risen to the skies--\n  Not yet with tongue that speaks,\n  Not yet with arm that breaks\n  The iron fetters of earth's tyrannies--\n  Is earnest of the struggle won,\n  And all life's shadows smitten of the sun.\n\n  Oh, once again the tale\n  Makes faith o'er doubt prevail!\n  Oh, once again the vision wakes to deeds\n  That god-like grow and shine\n  Till, grown to the divine,\n  Man soars to heights beyond where doubt impedes,\n  And in one glimpse of Heaven's glory\n  He reads the fulness of the human story.\n\n\n\n\nIX.\n\nNo Room in the Inn\n\n_A picture of two contrasted abodes.  On one side is the Inn, the\nHouse of Chimham, crowded with revelers whose ideal is expressed by\nHerod.  On the other side is the humble crib where angels are finding\nfellowship with ox and ass in adoration of the Christ Child._\n\n\n\n  No Room in the Inn\n\n  _The Angel Gabriel speaks:_\n\n    Unseen I stand and marvel; mysteries twain\n    Becloud my understanding.  Here the train\n    Of seraphs worship as before the Throne,\n    With glory vast, unseen of man alone.\n    Even the ox and ass, dumb, with meek eyes,\n    With ecstasy atremble, recognize\n    The crib where sleeps their Lord.  Yet, o'er the hills,\n    Back turned on this, a crowded world which fills\n    The House of Chimham, anxious but to see\n    The little lights of princely puppetry\n    Where Herod's palace flaunts its feeble ray,\n    With lure, alas, to lead man's soul astray\n    From this, the light which burns eternally,\n    And brings to earth her full felicity.\n\n    * * * * *\n\n    O fools, and blind!  I seem to hear your sin\n    Proclaim'd with revelry within the Inn\n    Ye deem so sure a dwelling.  Hark, the song\n    Which shrills so loud the ages all along:\n\n  \"No room, no room, in the world's wide Inn,\n    For Age when the wine of life is thin!\n  This carpenter, Joseph--push him aside;\n    If he cannot keep up, let him lodge outside,\n    With the beasts of the stable of Bethlehem!\n\n  \"No room, no room, for Mary as guest,\n    When Woman is weakness and sore distrest!\n  As thrall or as toy she awhile may abide;\n    If she come but to suffer, why, shut her outside,\n    With the beasts of the stable of Bethlehem!\n\n  \"A child, a child--on our hands tonight!\n    Oh, no room for Childhood, whatever its plight!\n  Children are cheap: for the travail hour,\n    Send the woman away to discover a bower\n    With the beasts of the stable of Bethlehem!\"\n\n    Poor, foolish world!  How are your revels mocked!\n    E'en while ye feast, your Inn is earthquake shocked,\n    Though Time but move a finger.  The dumb beasts\n    Are sager than the prophets of your feasts,\n    Who lift their empty voices to the night--\n    Made deaf by hearing, blind through gift of sight.\n    This stable whither ye the weak ones ban,\n    Stands on the rock of God's eternal plan;\n    And far above the ribald song ye sing,\n    I hear the ages with glad chorus ring:\n\n  \"Room, O room, in the Kingdom, for the trampled of power\n    and pride,\n  For Age that sinks under its weakness, with life's full\n    fruition denied,\n  Starved faculty hungry for service, impatient for uses of\n    heaven--\n  O enter, but stoop as ye enter, for life abounding is given\n      By the way of the stable of Bethlehem.\n\n  \"Room, O room, in the Kingdom, for Womanhood tender and true--\n  Handmaid of God, quick oblation, elect evermore to renew\n  Life, with Hope ever re-risen for the generations of earth--\n  Enter, albeit with pangs of the soul and with travail of birth,\n      By the crib of the stable of Bethlehem.\n\n  \"Room, in the Kingdom, for Childhood--for children the\n    chiefest seat!\n  Such shall be dear to the King, He shall gather them\n    round His feet.\n  In their joy He shall greatly rejoice, and their sadness shall\n    make Him sad.\n  Yea, their joy shall turn earth into heaven, and their gladness\n    shall make men glad,\n      As they tell of the stable of Bethlehem.\"\n\n  * * * * *\n\n  Sometime it will dawn, that Gospel.  Then shall shine\n  This stable, brighter than the Orient sun;\n  And men shall worship at this humble shrine,\n  Where, all unmarked, Redemption's work's begun.\n  The dumb brutes know; yet, for man's sake I go,\n  By other signs to stir him in his sleep.\n  My errand now--some few prepared I know--\n  To light the hillsides where they watch their sheep.\n\n\n\n\nX.\n\nMother and Child\n\n  \"_The Christ Child lay in Mary's lap,\n    His hair was like a crown....\n  And all the flowers looked up to Him,\n    And all the stars looked down._\"\n                            --G. K. CHESTERTON.\n\n\n\n  Mother and Child\n\n      Mother and Child!\n      Symbol eternal, and Fact, Prediction sublime!\n      Read the sweet story of Love, upheld in the arms of Time!\n      Mother and Child!\n\n      Read the great story of Earth, struggling up through her\n          Sorrow and Pain,\n      Till, chosen the Bride of God, she bring forth, washed clean\n          of all stain,\n      Truth undefiled.\n\n  Far back in the youth of the world, out of water and mist and slime,\n  I see thee, Earth-Mother, arise, both Mother and Daughter of Time--\n  Stern, sacrificially cruel, with passionate spirit aflame,\n  Cybele, Ishtar, Isis, adored under many a name,\n  Striving through waste and through weakness, onward and upward ever,\n  Slain for Love's sake and slaying, yet failing in sacrifice never,\n  Bearing with anguish of heart, big with the life of the morrow,\n  Lifting our soul from the soil, thy Body transfixed with our sorrow--\n  Till, lo, the fair fruitage of life, upheld in thine arms for\n      a Throne,\n  Opens eyes to the kiss of God, His Child, yet thy very own.\n\n  Far back ere the brooding wing of the Spirit o'er Chaos stirred,\n  God thought of Creation to be, and His Thought took flesh as\n      the Word--\n  Child of eternal Love, awaiting the fulness of days,\n  Downward descending in dreams, seeking our earthward ways,\n  Struggling for birth through the ages, piercing through many a cloud,\n  Worshipped at many an altar, wherever faces were bowed,\n  Or hands uplifted to Heaven in passionate yearning to see\n  In thy Face the transfiguring vision of life-giving Deity.\n  Till, lo, the idea of God, His Child, thou art brought to birth,\n  Making glad all thy brethren to be, and thy Mother the travailing\n      earth.\n\n      O Mother dear, to whom came Gabriel\n        With message like a sword,\n      Who bowed thyself in meekness at the well--\n        The Handmaid of the Lord!\n      Mother of Men, triumphant o'er the brute,\n        Hailed highly favored from the Holy Place,\n      The splendor of Earth's meaning in thy Face,\n        Her ultimate Flower and Fruit!\n\n      O Babe Divine, for whom the angels sang\n        O'er Bethlehem's fields of old,\n      When through the darkness heavenly carols rang\n        And heavenly tidings told!\n      O Child of Heaven, to whom all hearts aspire,\n      In incense clouds of prayer that upward burn,\n      In wakening throbs of Life that constant yearn--\n        Rich Spring-tide of desire!\n\n  Beyond the temporal tides whose course has run\n  In realms where space has burst her ancient bars,\n  I see the Woman clothed with the Sun,\n      And circled with the stars.\n\n  With feet upon the changeful Moon, she stands,\n  And on her face a look divinely mild,\n  She holds secure with tender, human hands\n      The Everlasting Child.\n\n  O ancient Mother, ever Virgin, young\n  With youth renewed through all the ages, Sign\n  Of Hope, the age-long prayer of every tongue,\n        And Victory divine!\n\n  Hold Thou that Hope that bursts upon our night--\n  Babe by thee suckled, sustenant of thee,\n  Beacon enkindled from the Eternal Light,\n        For all the world to see!\n\n      Sing all ye angel conclave of the skies,\n      Who at Creation's birth did shout for joy,\n        And hailed the task begun!\n      Now let your songs of triumph higher rise,\n      And all your heavenliest melodies employ,\n        To praise Creation done!\n\n      And sing, ye creatures from the lowest deep,\n      Whose groans have risen: 'O Lord, O Lord, how long?'\n        Expectant of the dawn!\n    High festival with men and angels keep,\n    Upraise from Earth to Heaven the endless song,\n        And hail the Babe new-born!\n\n\n\n\nXI.\n\nThe Vision of the Kings\n\n_A woman, with her baby at her breast, is depicted meditating, half\nto herself and half to her child, upon the Christmas story.  The poem\nendeavors to trace the pathway of her thought._\n\n\n\n  The Vision of the Kings\n\n\n  I.\n\n  O Virginal mother of men, in whose fathomless eyes--\n    Soft eyes too familiar with tears,\n  Past sorrow and faith in the future both wistfully wait\n    The gladness that comes with the years!\n  Asleep on your breast and content, that futurity lies,\n    Nor frets nor frowns at its fate.\n  While half to yourself and half to your baby you sing\n    The story undying miraculous Christmases bring:\n\n  \"There came three kings from far away, from far away,\n      from far away,\n  And o'er the crib of Bethlehem their guiding star its\n      course did stay.\n  Along the road beneath that star the way ahead like\n      silver shone:\n  So came they to the King of kings and poured their gifts\n      before His throne.\"\n\n\n  II.\n\n  Then sudden before your eyes the walls material fade\n    And melt away in the light,\n  While, full in that ray, as on stairway of stars, descend,\n    In robes of splendor bedight,\n  Three kingships on pilgrimage questing, with Heaven their aid,\n    And God within them their friend.\n  They move all majestical onward, as eager to greet\n  The slumbering Infant who draws them to kneel at His feet.\n\n\n  III.\n\n  The first is the kingship of Love, that walks in the van--\n    Of Love that kneels only to Love,\n  And vows unto Love a devotion Love only may pay.\n    Since Love is endowed from above.\n  How else could mortality offer such worship to man,\n    Or clay so reverence clay,\n  Did Love not know Love as predestined from death to win free,\n  Though lying all feeble and helpless asleep on your knee?\n\n\n  IV.\n\n  The second is kingship of Service, carrying high\n    Its casket of frankincense rare,\n  As ready in glad self-oblation to cast at Love's feet\n    The vessel fashioned so fair;\n  In gladness releasing, as incense that floats to the sky,\n    The odors of sacrifice sweet;\n  Lest self claim the fragrance that clings to one drop of the nard,\n  To shatter the vessel so fine to the uttermost shard.\n\n\n  V.\n\n  The third is the kingship of Wisdom, lingering still,\n    With hands that grope as they bear\n  No visible gift, and with footsteps that feel for the light,\n    And with eyes turned inward, from fear\n  Lest soon all their questing be ended, lest soon they shall fill\n    Their seeing with fullness of sight;\n  Still wise in their seeking for wisdom, yet wiser to be\n  In serving the Christ of their seeking on worshipping knee.\n\n\n  VI.\n\n  Is all but a dream, O my mother, as, plain in your sight,\n    These march on their star-lit way?\n  Or see you, through casements celestial, on Heaven's bright floor,\n    Some earnest of Heaven's new day,\n  When all things on earth, or in heaven, or in hell's blackest night,\n    Bow down to give praise evermore--\n  When they sing the new song of release from earth's sorrow and thrall\n  To Him who, though born in a manger, is King over all?\n\n\n  VII.\n\n  Still dream, and with life as it passes still mingle your dream,\n    Nor fear for the ages unknown!\n  All fear shall your Babe laugh to scorn, however heavy its weight,\n    Since man is not faring alone!\n  'Emmanuel'--'God with us all'--this is solace, we deem,\n    Sufficient to front any fate;\n  Though sharp be the Cross He must bear, when the conflict is o'er,\n  The kingship of earth and of heaven is His evermore.\n\n\n\n\nXII.\n\nA Prayer for the New Year\n\n\n\n  A Prayer for the New Year\n\n  O God, whose days are without end and Whose years cannot\n      be numbered!\n  We, the seeming creatures of a day, reach onward through\n      the passing years\n  To claim Thy kinship in Eternity.\n  We thank Thee for the solemn pause wherein we put the dead\n      past behind us,\n  And face the new unknown with courage new.\n  Lift up over Thy bewildered world the sunshine of Thy presence\n  That we this year may see the world, Thy handiwork,\n  Emerge victorious, purposeful from Chaos,\n  Grant us to see, clear of cloud and battle-smoke,\n  The Eternal City, real before our eyes,\n  Stable on earth, the world of all our dreams,\n  Home of men reconciled, redeemed from hate.\n  Grant us to see Creation, after travail pangs,\n  With Love again made young, young Hope within her arms,\n  Her sorrows healed, her tears to pearls transformed.\n  Then we, strangers and sojourners of Time, shall gird ourselves\n  For the march which ends not but in rest with Thee.\n  O hang the lamp of hope above our onward path;\n  Give clearer light to understand the things which hitherto were dark;\n  Give strength to work the work for which our hands were hitherto\n      too feeble;\n  Enlarge our hearts to love all that is worthy love, though\n      hitherto unloved;\n  Whatever seed Thou scatterest along these unknown days ahead,\n  Help us to reap therefrom harvests of blessing for ourselves\n      and others\n  Which Thou wilt garner safe beyond the flux of years.\n\n\n\n\n  PRINTED IN\n  THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA\n  BY\n  MOREHOUSE PUBLISHING CO.\n  MILWAUKEE, WIS.","title":"The little grey lamb, and other Christmas poems","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":6363}