© 1994-2017, Scott Sperling
    Christmas Prayer   Let not our hearts be busy inns, That have no room for Thee, But cradles for the living Christ And His nativity   Still driven by a thousand cares The pilgrims come and go; The hurried caravans press on; The inns are crowded so!   Here are the rich and busy ones, With things that must be sold, No room for simple things within This hostelry of gold.   Yet hunger dwells within these walls These shining walls and bright, And blindness groping here and there Without a ray of light.   Oh, lest we starve, and lest we die, In our stupidity, Come, Holy Child, within and share Our hospitality.   Let not our hearts be busy inns, That have no room for Thee, But cradles for the living Christ And His nativity.       -- Ralph Spalding Cushman (1879-1960)     As With Gladness Men of Old   As with gladness men of old Did the guiding star behold; As with joy they hailed its light, Leading onward, beaming bright; So, most gracious Lord, may we Evermore be led to Thee.   As with joyful steps they sped To that lowly manger-bed, There to bend the knee before Him whom heaven and earth adore; So may we with willing feet Ever seek Thy mercy seat.   As they offered gifts most rare, At that manger rude and bare, So may we with holy joy, Pure and free from sin’s allow, All our costliest treasures bring, Christ, to Thee, our heavenly King.   Holy Jesus, every day Keep us in the narrow way; And, when earthly things are past, Bring our ransomed souls at last Where they need no star to guide, Where no clouds Thy glory hide.   -- William Chesterton Dix (1837-1898) Christmas Pastoral   The snow lies crisp beneath the stars, On roofs and on the ground. Late footsteps crunch along the paths, There is no other sound.   So cold it is the roadside trees Snap in the rigid frost, A dreadful night to think on them,— The homeless and the lost.   The dead sleep sheltered in the tomb, The rich drink in the hall; The Virgin and the Holy Child Lie shivering in a stall.                                             -- Robert Hillyer (1895-1961)    
    Christmas Prayer   Let not our hearts be busy inns, That have no room for Thee, But cradles for the living Christ And His nativity   Still driven by a thousand cares The pilgrims come and go; The hurried caravans press on; The inns are crowded so!   Here are the rich and busy ones, With things that must be sold, No room for simple things within This hostelry of gold.   Yet hunger dwells within these walls These shining walls and bright, And blindness groping here and there Without a ray of light.   Oh, lest we starve, and lest we die, In our stupidity, Come, Holy Child, within and share Our hospitality.   Let not our hearts be busy inns, That have no room for Thee, But cradles for the living Christ And His nativity.     -- Ralph Spalding Cushman (1879-1960)     As With Gladness Men of Old   As with gladness men of old Did the guiding star behold; As with joy they hailed its light, Leading onward, beaming bright; So, most gracious Lord, may we Evermore be led to Thee.   As with joyful steps they sped To that lowly manger-bed, There to bend the knee before Him whom heaven and earth adore; So may we with willing feet Ever seek Thy mercy seat.   As they offered gifts most rare, At that manger rude and bare, So may we with holy joy, Pure and free from sin’s allow, All our costliest treasures bring, Christ, to Thee, our heavenly King.   Holy Jesus, every day Keep us in the narrow way; And, when earthly things are past, Bring our ransomed souls at last Where they need no star to guide, Where no clouds Thy glory hide.   -- William Chesterton Dix (1837-1898) Christmas Pastoral   The snow lies crisp beneath the stars, On roofs and on the ground. Late footsteps crunch along the paths, There is no other sound.   So cold it is the roadside trees Snap in the rigid frost, A dreadful night to think on them,— The homeless and the lost.   The dead sleep sheltered in the tomb, The rich drink in the hall; The Virgin and the Holy Child Lie shivering in a stall.                                             -- Robert Hillyer (1895-1961)