A stranger star that came from far 600
To fling its silver ray,
Where, cradled in a lowly cave,
A lowlier infant lay;
And led by soft sidereal light,
The orient sages bring
Bare gifts of gold and frankincense,
To greet the homeless King.
O wondrous grace! Will gods go down
Thus low that men may rise?
Imprisoned here the Mighty One, 610
Who reigned in yonder skies?
Hark to that chime!—What tongue sublime
Now tells the hour of noon[13]?
O dying world! art welcoming
Life's life—Light's sun and moon[14]?
Proclaim Him, prophet harbinger!
Make plain the Mightier's way,
Thou sharer of His martyrdom!
Elias? Yea and Nay[15].
The crescent moon, that knew the Sun, 620
Ere stars had learned to shine[16];
The waning moon, that bathed in blood,
Ere sank the Sun divine.
"Glory to God!—good will to man!—
Peace, peace!"—triumphal tone.
"Why peace?" Is discord then no more?
Are earth and heaven as one?
Peace to the soul that serveth Him,
The monarch manger-born;
There, ruler of unnumbered realms; 630
Here, throneless and forlorn.
He wandered through the faithless world,
A prince in shepherd guise;
He called his scattered flock, but few
The Voice did recognize;
For minds upborne by hollow pride,
Or dimmed by sordid lust,
Ne'er look for kings in beggar's garb,
For diamonds in the dust.
Wept He above a city doomed[17], 640
Her temple, walls, and towers,
O'er palaces where recreant priests
Usurped unhallowed powers.
"I am the way, the life, the light!"
Alas! 'twas heeded not.
Ignored—nay, mocked—God scorned by man!—
And spurned the truth He taught.
O bane of damning unbelief!
When, when till now so rife?
Thou stumbling stone, thou barrier 'thwart 650
The gates of endless life!
O love of self, and mammon lust,
Twin portals to despair,
Where bigotry, the blinded bat,
Flaps through the midnight air!
Through these, gloom-wrapt Gethsemane[18]!
Thy glens of guilty shade
Grieved o'er the sinless Son of God,
By gold-bought kiss betrayed;
Beheld Him unresisting dragged, 660
Forsaken, friendless, lone,
To halls where dark-browed hatred sat
On judgment's lofty throne.
As sheep before His shearers, dumb,
Those patient lips were mute;
The clamorous charge of taunting tongues
He deigned not to dispute.
They smote with cruel palm a face
Which felt yet bore the sting;
Then crowned with thorns His quivering brow, 670
And, mocking, hailed him "King!"
Transfixt He hung,—O crime of crimes!—
The God whom worlds adore.
"Father forgive them!" Drained the dregs;
Immanuel[19]—no more.
No more where thunders shook the earth,
Where lightnings tore the gloom,
Saw that unconquered Spirit spurn
The shackles of the tomb.