The Child your eyes shall see,
As yet laid lowlily,
Not yet full-statured risen to the skies—
Not yet with tongue that speaks,
Not yet with arm that breaks
The iron fetters of earth's tyrannies—
Is earnest of the struggle won,
And all life's shadows smitten of the sun.
Oh, once again the tale
Makes faith o'er doubt prevail!
Oh, once again the vision wakes to deeds
That god-like grow and shine
Till, grown to the divine,
Man soars to heights beyond where doubt impedes,
And in one glimpse of Heaven's glory
He reads the fulness of the human story.
IX.
No Room in the Inn
A picture of two contrasted abodes. On one side is the Inn, the House of Chimham, crowded with revelers whose ideal is expressed by Herod. On the other side is the humble crib where angels are finding fellowship with ox and ass in adoration of the Christ Child.
No Room in the Inn
The Angel Gabriel speaks:
Unseen I stand and marvel; mysteries twain
Becloud my understanding. Here the train
Of seraphs worship as before the Throne,
With glory vast, unseen of man alone.
Even the ox and ass, dumb, with meek eyes,
With ecstasy atremble, recognize
The crib where sleeps their Lord. Yet, o'er the hills,
Back turned on this, a crowded world which fills
The House of Chimham, anxious but to see
The little lights of princely puppetry
Where Herod's palace flaunts its feeble ray,
With lure, alas, to lead man's soul astray
From this, the light which burns eternally,
And brings to earth her full felicity.
* * * * *
O fools, and blind! I seem to hear your sin
Proclaim'd with revelry within the Inn
Ye deem so sure a dwelling. Hark, the song
Which shrills so loud the ages all along: