Just a little baby on Mary's breast that bore Him,
Helpless feet, and clinging hands, and lips that knew no word,
And the darkness ringing with the angels' singing,
Sounding through the solemn night, "All glory to the Lord."
Just a little baby wrapped in swaddling clothing—
All the earth forever thrills rejoicing in that birth,
Through the centuries flying still hears those angels crying,
"Glory be to God on high, and peace, goodwill to earth."
DE PROFUNDIS
Lord, from this prison-house that we have built,
This dark abode of pain and misery,
Failure and guilt,
We stretch our hands, we stretch our hands to Thee,
Lord, set us free.
O Lord, Thou knowest all—Thou knowest well
The groping hands, the eyes that would not see,
The feet that fell;
Yet are we fain—are fain to come to Thee,
Lord, set us free.
Bitter the chains that we have borne so long,
The chains of sin we wove so heedlessly;
Lo, Thou art strong,
Out of the deeps we cry—we cry to Thee,
Lord, set us free.
THE CRY OF THE DAMNED
Have you no pity for us?—You, who stand
Within that Heaven that we may never win,
Who know the golden streets of that fair land
Our weary feet are fain to be within.
Have you no ruth for us, who must abide
In the great horror of the night outside?