There Was No Room for Them in the Inn (Kimball)

Thou

the eter­nal Son

Though of Thy glo­ry shorn;

Thou

ve­ry God of ve­ry God

Though man of Ma­ry born—

Is there no room for Thee

Even in Beth­l’hem’s inn?

Dost Thou who com­est to Thine own

From them no wel­come win?

Dost Thou the bit­ter cross

So ea­ger­ly em­brace

For us

and we for Thee pre­pare

No poor­est dwell­ing place?

No room for Thee? No room

For love and sac­ri­fice

Such as no mor­tal could con­ceive

And none but Thou de­vise?

O sweet­est Je­sus

hear!

Though I am poor in­deed

I know I can pro­vide a spot

To meet Thy low­ly need.

Such love as Thine must crave

Above all oth­er things

The love of those on whom ’tis spent

And all that lov­ing brings.

For love is shel­ter

food

A bed of down

a throne;

Its ve­ry breath obe­di­ence

To him whom it doth own.

Come

sweet­est Je­sus

then

In this poor heart ab­ide;

And I shall love Thee more and more

Till love is sa­tis­fied.