The Day the Christ Child’s Tender Eyes

The day the Christ child’s ten­der eyes

Unveiled their beau­ty on the earth

God lit a new star in the skies

To flash the mes­sage of His birth;

And wise men read the glow­ing sign

And came to greet the Child di­vine.

Low kneel­ing in the sta­ble’s gloom

Their pre­cious trea­sures they un­rolled;

The place was rich with sweet per­fume;

Upon the floor lay gifts of gold.

And thus ad­or­ing they did bring

To Christ the ear­li­est of­fer­ing.

I think no nim­bus wreathed the head

Of that young King so rude­ly throned;

The quilt of hay be­neath Him spread

The sleepy kine be­side Him owned;

And here and there through rag­ged thatch

The sky thrust in a star­ry patch.

Oh

when was new-born mo­narch shrined

Within such ca­no­py as this?

The birds have cra­dles fea­ther lined;

And for their new ba­bes prin­cess­es

Have sheets of lace with­out a flaw

His pil­low was a wisp of straw!

He chose this way

it may have been

That those poor mo­thers

ev­ery­where

Whose ba­bies in the world’s great inn

Find scan­ty cra­dle-room and fare

As did the Babe of Beth­le­hem

May find some­what to com­fort them.

Thus was He born. And since that time

We crown the day with wreath and song;

The bells laugh out in mer­ry chime

And he his roy­al Guest doth wrong

Who wel­comes Him with gloomy fears

Or salts the birth­day feast with tears.