In a long procession with torches the worshipers of the Greek church, chanting an evensong for their feast day, passed beneath our balcony. A torch lighted up the cross held high over the heads of the marchers. Out over the hills of Bethlehem, hidden now by the night, bright stars were shining. We fell upon our knees and worshiped Him.
I GO OVER TO BETHLEHEM
There was a baby born in Bethlehem.
I know they say
That this and that’s in doubt, and, for the rest
That learned men who surely should know best
Explain how myths crept in, and followers’ tales confused the truth.
I know—but anyway
There was a baby born in Bethlehem
Who lived and grew and loved and healed and taught