I thought this was beautiful. Hope you all enjoy it.
THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the town,
St. Joseph was searching, walking up the roads and down.
Our Lady was waiting, so meek and so mild,
While Joseph was seeking a place for the child.
The children were nestled, each snug in his bed,
The grownups wouldn't bother, "There's no room," they said.
Even the innkeeper sent them away,
And Joseph was wondering where they would stay.
He thought of the cave in the side of the hill,
"Let's go there," said Mary, "it's silent and still."
The moon was bright and gave off a glow,
Making a pathway of light for their tired feet to go.
And there in the cave on a cradle of hay,
The Savior was born on that first Christmas day.
The Father was watching in heaven above,
And sent for his angels, His courtiers of love.
More rapid than eagles God's bright angels came,
Rejoicing and eager as each heard his name.
"Come Powers, come Cherubs, come Virtues, and Raphael;
Come Thrones, and Dominions, and Michael and Gabriel.
Now fly to the earth where My poor people live,
Announce the glad tidings My Son comes to give."
The shepherds were watching their flocks on this night,
And saw in the heavens an unearthly light.
The angel assured them, "There's nothing to fear,
It's Christmas," they said, "The Savior is here!"
They hastened to find him, and stood at the door,
'Till Mary invited them in to adore.
He was swaddled in bands from His head to His feet,
And never did shepherds see a baby so sweet!
He spoke not a word, but the shepherds all knew,
He was telling them secrets, and blessing them too.
Then swiftly they left Him, the babe in the hay,
And rejoiced with great joy on that first Christmas day.
They heard them exclaim as they walked up the hill,
"GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST AND PEACE TO MEN OF GOOD WILL!"
MEDITATION FOR CHRISTMAS
They say that the Master is coming,
to honor the town today.
And the home of a poor little Cobbler
is the place He has chosen to stay.
But I really couldn't believe it,
I think He will come to mine.
Why should He choose such a humble hut,
When my home is stately and fine.
So I rose with the sun in the morning,
I baked my good crusty bread.
I covered with softest linens
The top of a comfortable bed.
I was setting my table with China,
When I heard a soft rap on the pane.
"Please, lady, I'm cold and hungry",
It was a child, all dirty and lame.
"Oh, please," I cried, "you really must go,
I'm much too busy today!
I'm preparing my house for an honored guest",
and with a sigh, the child turned away.
I polished and burnished my brasses,
Set my candles in a shining row,
When a timid knock on the door disclosed,
an old beggar in the snow.
"Please, lady," he said, "I've traveled far,
and the stones have bruised my fee,
this cloak no longer keeps me warm,
and I faint for something to eat."
"Oh, please, can't you see I have no time?"
Such misery brought swift dismay,
for following close was a woman in rags,
Who said she had lost her way.
"Oh, please," I cried, "I have much to do,
You must go to some other place,
The Master is coming to be my guest."
And they turned, with despair on each face.
Twilight fell as the day wore on,
Still no one came to my gate.
My house stood shining and warm with fire,
But I could only pray and wait.
"Oh Master, oh Master, why didn't you come
Why have you disappointed me so?"
Then I heard a voice in the quiet room,
A voice that was clear and low.
"Three times you turned me away from your door.
For I was the child, hungry and cold;
I was the beggar with bruised fee,
I was the woman so worn and old."
Bleak and friendless my house has grown,
As the daylight wanes on the hill.
I try to forget, but I can't escape,
three figures. . .they haunt me still.
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