The Stable of Bethlehem.
TThere is no ante-chamber in this royal palace,There are no waiting-rooms of haughty state:No chamberlain austere, no courtiers puff’d with malice,To shut us out from where the King doth wait—The new-born King, unscepter’d and uncrown’d,In swaddling-bands of lowly linen bound.Open and wide to all, are these old palace-portals—The very beasts have found their way therein.Amid the thronging Angels, would ye seek for mortals?Behold the Virgin without stain of sin,And Joseph, her chaste spouse!—Thrice blesséd pair!They kneel before the Babe in wordless prayer!The sweetest, fairest Babe e’er seen! Thro’ ruined rafters,The happy stars shine in upon His stall;The keen wind, blowing from the fields and mountain-pastures,Deepens the rose-tint of His visage small,And bids His hands, on Mary’s bosom, glowLike soft, pink blossoms on a drift of snow.Kneel and adore Him! Bring your hearts, as stainless lilies,To cast before His darling, dimpled feet!Soon shall the shepherds from the dusky hills and valleys,In simple faith, around His manger meet;And stately Kings, on wondrous quest intent,Shall bring their gifts from out the Orient.O Love, so free, so royal, yet so condescending—So unpretentious in Thy majesty!As Thy beginning, even so shall be Thine endingUpon the open heights of Calvary!A fountain, free to all beneath God’s heaven,Wherein all sinners may be cleansed and shriven!Here is the well-spring of those sparkling, saving waters—Here, in the heart of Mary’s Blessed Boy!From out the Saviour’s fountains, O earth’s sons and daughters,Ye shall draw graces with exceeding joy;And, with the Christmas Angels, rapturous, sing:Glory and homage to the new-born King!
TThere is no ante-chamber in this royal palace,There are no waiting-rooms of haughty state:No chamberlain austere, no courtiers puff’d with malice,To shut us out from where the King doth wait—The new-born King, unscepter’d and uncrown’d,In swaddling-bands of lowly linen bound.Open and wide to all, are these old palace-portals—The very beasts have found their way therein.Amid the thronging Angels, would ye seek for mortals?Behold the Virgin without stain of sin,And Joseph, her chaste spouse!—Thrice blesséd pair!They kneel before the Babe in wordless prayer!The sweetest, fairest Babe e’er seen! Thro’ ruined rafters,The happy stars shine in upon His stall;The keen wind, blowing from the fields and mountain-pastures,Deepens the rose-tint of His visage small,And bids His hands, on Mary’s bosom, glowLike soft, pink blossoms on a drift of snow.Kneel and adore Him! Bring your hearts, as stainless lilies,To cast before His darling, dimpled feet!Soon shall the shepherds from the dusky hills and valleys,In simple faith, around His manger meet;And stately Kings, on wondrous quest intent,Shall bring their gifts from out the Orient.O Love, so free, so royal, yet so condescending—So unpretentious in Thy majesty!As Thy beginning, even so shall be Thine endingUpon the open heights of Calvary!A fountain, free to all beneath God’s heaven,Wherein all sinners may be cleansed and shriven!Here is the well-spring of those sparkling, saving waters—Here, in the heart of Mary’s Blessed Boy!From out the Saviour’s fountains, O earth’s sons and daughters,Ye shall draw graces with exceeding joy;And, with the Christmas Angels, rapturous, sing:Glory and homage to the new-born King!
TThere is no ante-chamber in this royal palace,There are no waiting-rooms of haughty state:No chamberlain austere, no courtiers puff’d with malice,To shut us out from where the King doth wait—The new-born King, unscepter’d and uncrown’d,In swaddling-bands of lowly linen bound.
There is no ante-chamber in this royal palace,
There are no waiting-rooms of haughty state:
No chamberlain austere, no courtiers puff’d with malice,
To shut us out from where the King doth wait—
The new-born King, unscepter’d and uncrown’d,
In swaddling-bands of lowly linen bound.
Open and wide to all, are these old palace-portals—The very beasts have found their way therein.Amid the thronging Angels, would ye seek for mortals?Behold the Virgin without stain of sin,And Joseph, her chaste spouse!—Thrice blesséd pair!They kneel before the Babe in wordless prayer!
Open and wide to all, are these old palace-portals—
The very beasts have found their way therein.
Amid the thronging Angels, would ye seek for mortals?
Behold the Virgin without stain of sin,
And Joseph, her chaste spouse!—Thrice blesséd pair!
They kneel before the Babe in wordless prayer!
The sweetest, fairest Babe e’er seen! Thro’ ruined rafters,The happy stars shine in upon His stall;The keen wind, blowing from the fields and mountain-pastures,Deepens the rose-tint of His visage small,And bids His hands, on Mary’s bosom, glowLike soft, pink blossoms on a drift of snow.
The sweetest, fairest Babe e’er seen! Thro’ ruined rafters,
The happy stars shine in upon His stall;
The keen wind, blowing from the fields and mountain-pastures,
Deepens the rose-tint of His visage small,
And bids His hands, on Mary’s bosom, glow
Like soft, pink blossoms on a drift of snow.
Kneel and adore Him! Bring your hearts, as stainless lilies,To cast before His darling, dimpled feet!Soon shall the shepherds from the dusky hills and valleys,In simple faith, around His manger meet;And stately Kings, on wondrous quest intent,Shall bring their gifts from out the Orient.
Kneel and adore Him! Bring your hearts, as stainless lilies,
To cast before His darling, dimpled feet!
Soon shall the shepherds from the dusky hills and valleys,
In simple faith, around His manger meet;
And stately Kings, on wondrous quest intent,
Shall bring their gifts from out the Orient.
O Love, so free, so royal, yet so condescending—So unpretentious in Thy majesty!As Thy beginning, even so shall be Thine endingUpon the open heights of Calvary!A fountain, free to all beneath God’s heaven,Wherein all sinners may be cleansed and shriven!
O Love, so free, so royal, yet so condescending—
So unpretentious in Thy majesty!
As Thy beginning, even so shall be Thine ending
Upon the open heights of Calvary!
A fountain, free to all beneath God’s heaven,
Wherein all sinners may be cleansed and shriven!
Here is the well-spring of those sparkling, saving waters—Here, in the heart of Mary’s Blessed Boy!From out the Saviour’s fountains, O earth’s sons and daughters,Ye shall draw graces with exceeding joy;And, with the Christmas Angels, rapturous, sing:Glory and homage to the new-born King!
Here is the well-spring of those sparkling, saving waters—
Here, in the heart of Mary’s Blessed Boy!
From out the Saviour’s fountains, O earth’s sons and daughters,
Ye shall draw graces with exceeding joy;
And, with the Christmas Angels, rapturous, sing:
Glory and homage to the new-born King!
The Three Masses on Christmas Day.I.“The Lord hath said to me: Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee.”—Ps. ii, 7.DDeep in the bosom of the Father liesHis co-eternal Word—the Infinite,Whose generation’s everlasting lightIllumes the unborn ages.... Lift your eyes,And contemplate that Home in Paradise,That first eternal Dwelling of the Word!—Before the angels were,—before the skiesBlush’d over Eden, or the waters stirredUnder the Spirit’s strong, creative breath,—Uttered the Father in His bosom blestThis glorious Word.... What matter change or death?Amid the Godhead’s central fires expressed,Life lives in Love.—O men of vision dim,Here, at His altars, kneel, and worship Him!II.“And they came with haste, and they found Mary and Joseph, and the Infant lying in a manger.”—Luke ii, 16.Tho’ midnight shadows wrap Him in their pall,The stars upon His rosy sweetness shine;From Mary’s bosom to the cattle-stall,He passes in His baby grace divine!Venite adoremus.In this shrine,Our God appears, our Saviour, and our All!Before the Word made Flesh, adoring, fall,And praise the Everlasting’s blest design.Far, o’er the hills, the angel-chorus rings;The Shepherds, thro’ the dusk, are drawing nigh;St. Joseph’s lantern glows.... The Eastern KingsStand out, like giants, ’gainst the bright’ning sky.“Glory to God!”—(the swelling strains increase)“And, on the earth, to men of good-will—peace!”III.“A child is born to us, and a Son is given to us, and the government is upon his shoulders; and his name shall be called the Angel of great Council.”—Isaias ix.Within the Bethlehem of these poor hearts,The manger of our souls, O Prince of men!Come, in Thy pity, and be born again!—Ere yet the golden Christmas-tide departs,Love, with its thousand sweet and tender arts,Shall emulate the Shepherds’ glowing zeal,Or, like the Magi from the Orient marts,Shall gold, and myrrh, and frankincense reveal.O Babe, so rich in Thy great poverty,Give us Detachment’s grand, divorcing grace!O Babe, sublime in Thy humility,Grant us, in Thee, all pride to self-abase!O suff’ring Babe, so blissful in Thy woe,A self-denying joy, on us, bestow!
The Three Masses on Christmas Day.
I.
“The Lord hath said to me: Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee.”—Ps. ii, 7.
“The Lord hath said to me: Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee.”—Ps. ii, 7.
DDeep in the bosom of the Father liesHis co-eternal Word—the Infinite,Whose generation’s everlasting lightIllumes the unborn ages.... Lift your eyes,And contemplate that Home in Paradise,That first eternal Dwelling of the Word!—Before the angels were,—before the skiesBlush’d over Eden, or the waters stirredUnder the Spirit’s strong, creative breath,—Uttered the Father in His bosom blestThis glorious Word.... What matter change or death?Amid the Godhead’s central fires expressed,Life lives in Love.—O men of vision dim,Here, at His altars, kneel, and worship Him!
DDeep in the bosom of the Father liesHis co-eternal Word—the Infinite,Whose generation’s everlasting lightIllumes the unborn ages.... Lift your eyes,And contemplate that Home in Paradise,That first eternal Dwelling of the Word!—Before the angels were,—before the skiesBlush’d over Eden, or the waters stirredUnder the Spirit’s strong, creative breath,—Uttered the Father in His bosom blestThis glorious Word.... What matter change or death?Amid the Godhead’s central fires expressed,Life lives in Love.—O men of vision dim,Here, at His altars, kneel, and worship Him!
DDeep in the bosom of the Father liesHis co-eternal Word—the Infinite,Whose generation’s everlasting lightIllumes the unborn ages.... Lift your eyes,And contemplate that Home in Paradise,That first eternal Dwelling of the Word!—Before the angels were,—before the skiesBlush’d over Eden, or the waters stirredUnder the Spirit’s strong, creative breath,—Uttered the Father in His bosom blestThis glorious Word.... What matter change or death?Amid the Godhead’s central fires expressed,Life lives in Love.—O men of vision dim,Here, at His altars, kneel, and worship Him!
Deep in the bosom of the Father lies
His co-eternal Word—the Infinite,
Whose generation’s everlasting light
Illumes the unborn ages.... Lift your eyes,
And contemplate that Home in Paradise,
That first eternal Dwelling of the Word!—
Before the angels were,—before the skies
Blush’d over Eden, or the waters stirred
Under the Spirit’s strong, creative breath,—
Uttered the Father in His bosom blest
This glorious Word.... What matter change or death?
Amid the Godhead’s central fires expressed,
Life lives in Love.—O men of vision dim,
Here, at His altars, kneel, and worship Him!
II.
“And they came with haste, and they found Mary and Joseph, and the Infant lying in a manger.”—Luke ii, 16.
“And they came with haste, and they found Mary and Joseph, and the Infant lying in a manger.”—Luke ii, 16.
Tho’ midnight shadows wrap Him in their pall,The stars upon His rosy sweetness shine;From Mary’s bosom to the cattle-stall,He passes in His baby grace divine!Venite adoremus.In this shrine,Our God appears, our Saviour, and our All!Before the Word made Flesh, adoring, fall,And praise the Everlasting’s blest design.Far, o’er the hills, the angel-chorus rings;The Shepherds, thro’ the dusk, are drawing nigh;St. Joseph’s lantern glows.... The Eastern KingsStand out, like giants, ’gainst the bright’ning sky.“Glory to God!”—(the swelling strains increase)“And, on the earth, to men of good-will—peace!”
Tho’ midnight shadows wrap Him in their pall,The stars upon His rosy sweetness shine;From Mary’s bosom to the cattle-stall,He passes in His baby grace divine!Venite adoremus.In this shrine,Our God appears, our Saviour, and our All!Before the Word made Flesh, adoring, fall,And praise the Everlasting’s blest design.Far, o’er the hills, the angel-chorus rings;The Shepherds, thro’ the dusk, are drawing nigh;St. Joseph’s lantern glows.... The Eastern KingsStand out, like giants, ’gainst the bright’ning sky.“Glory to God!”—(the swelling strains increase)“And, on the earth, to men of good-will—peace!”
Tho’ midnight shadows wrap Him in their pall,The stars upon His rosy sweetness shine;From Mary’s bosom to the cattle-stall,He passes in His baby grace divine!Venite adoremus.In this shrine,Our God appears, our Saviour, and our All!Before the Word made Flesh, adoring, fall,And praise the Everlasting’s blest design.Far, o’er the hills, the angel-chorus rings;The Shepherds, thro’ the dusk, are drawing nigh;St. Joseph’s lantern glows.... The Eastern KingsStand out, like giants, ’gainst the bright’ning sky.“Glory to God!”—(the swelling strains increase)“And, on the earth, to men of good-will—peace!”
Tho’ midnight shadows wrap Him in their pall,
The stars upon His rosy sweetness shine;
From Mary’s bosom to the cattle-stall,
He passes in His baby grace divine!
Venite adoremus.In this shrine,
Our God appears, our Saviour, and our All!
Before the Word made Flesh, adoring, fall,
And praise the Everlasting’s blest design.
Far, o’er the hills, the angel-chorus rings;
The Shepherds, thro’ the dusk, are drawing nigh;
St. Joseph’s lantern glows.... The Eastern Kings
Stand out, like giants, ’gainst the bright’ning sky.
“Glory to God!”—(the swelling strains increase)
“And, on the earth, to men of good-will—peace!”
III.
“A child is born to us, and a Son is given to us, and the government is upon his shoulders; and his name shall be called the Angel of great Council.”—Isaias ix.
“A child is born to us, and a Son is given to us, and the government is upon his shoulders; and his name shall be called the Angel of great Council.”—Isaias ix.
Within the Bethlehem of these poor hearts,The manger of our souls, O Prince of men!Come, in Thy pity, and be born again!—Ere yet the golden Christmas-tide departs,Love, with its thousand sweet and tender arts,Shall emulate the Shepherds’ glowing zeal,Or, like the Magi from the Orient marts,Shall gold, and myrrh, and frankincense reveal.O Babe, so rich in Thy great poverty,Give us Detachment’s grand, divorcing grace!O Babe, sublime in Thy humility,Grant us, in Thee, all pride to self-abase!O suff’ring Babe, so blissful in Thy woe,A self-denying joy, on us, bestow!
Within the Bethlehem of these poor hearts,The manger of our souls, O Prince of men!Come, in Thy pity, and be born again!—Ere yet the golden Christmas-tide departs,Love, with its thousand sweet and tender arts,Shall emulate the Shepherds’ glowing zeal,Or, like the Magi from the Orient marts,Shall gold, and myrrh, and frankincense reveal.O Babe, so rich in Thy great poverty,Give us Detachment’s grand, divorcing grace!O Babe, sublime in Thy humility,Grant us, in Thee, all pride to self-abase!O suff’ring Babe, so blissful in Thy woe,A self-denying joy, on us, bestow!
Within the Bethlehem of these poor hearts,The manger of our souls, O Prince of men!Come, in Thy pity, and be born again!—Ere yet the golden Christmas-tide departs,Love, with its thousand sweet and tender arts,Shall emulate the Shepherds’ glowing zeal,Or, like the Magi from the Orient marts,Shall gold, and myrrh, and frankincense reveal.
Within the Bethlehem of these poor hearts,
The manger of our souls, O Prince of men!
Come, in Thy pity, and be born again!—
Ere yet the golden Christmas-tide departs,
Love, with its thousand sweet and tender arts,
Shall emulate the Shepherds’ glowing zeal,
Or, like the Magi from the Orient marts,
Shall gold, and myrrh, and frankincense reveal.
O Babe, so rich in Thy great poverty,Give us Detachment’s grand, divorcing grace!O Babe, sublime in Thy humility,Grant us, in Thee, all pride to self-abase!O suff’ring Babe, so blissful in Thy woe,A self-denying joy, on us, bestow!
O Babe, so rich in Thy great poverty,
Give us Detachment’s grand, divorcing grace!
O Babe, sublime in Thy humility,
Grant us, in Thee, all pride to self-abase!
O suff’ring Babe, so blissful in Thy woe,
A self-denying joy, on us, bestow!