Poems (Kimball)/A Christmas Meditation

by Harriet McEwen Kimball

A CHRISTMAS MEDITATION.

SO poor, so humble, in such solitude,
 Amid the lowing of the patient kine,
So barely sheltered in the stable rude
   We find Thee, Babe Divine ;
    O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

Here born of Virgin Mother, spotless
 Who folds Thee to her rapt, adoring breast,
Thou art content obscurely to be laid
   By the proud world unguessed;
    O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

Though hosts seraphic gird Thy Throne on high
 No earthly throngs Thy Holy Birth attend;
No shouts of joy, though praises fill the sky,
   Earth's bitter silence rend;
    O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

As with the darkness of Thy natal night
 Thou veilest all the glory of Thy Face;
Thou who art God of God, and Light of Light,
   The Fount of joy and grace;
    O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

This want, this loneliness, this manger bed
 That hint the story of Thy coming woe
When Thou wilt have nowhere to lay Thy head,
   Thou wiliest even so;
    O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

And while our eyes a gathering shadow see—
 The shadow of Thy cross—upon Thee fall,
Thine own are fixed upon our crown to be
   And nought can Thee appall;
    O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

Oh that these tongues Thy love could fitly sing!
 These hearts with praise (as Thine with anguish) break!
All that we have in worship would we bring
   For Thy dear glory's sake;
    O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!