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Show I ;, THE BABE IN BETHLEHEM. A Christmas Carol. (For The Intermountain Catholic.) (By James E. Kinsella, Chicago Post-office Post-office Poet.) (Inscribed to My Mother.) Suggested by the illustrious painter, Murillo's celebrated picture of the Nativity Na-tivity of the Infant Jesus in the Stable of Bethlehem. Like buoyant birds that scorn the nest, And long to try frail, downy wings, The snow fell on the earth's brown breast. The shackled stream a captive, sings. Hoarse winds are shrieking with delight, de-light, Their maniac message all forlorn. Two thousand years ago tonight. The Prince of Peace, our Lord, was bornT Upon the dusk brow of the night, A splendid star blazed like a gem, A wind-swept beacon, for its light. Flushed the bleak plain of Bethlehem. Bethle-hem. Gray, hoary sages strained their eyes, And marveled at its elfin glow Our Savior's birth mark in the skies, The Light that leads us here below. Housed from the blast in stable rude, His crib a manger scurvy bed He bore it all with fortitude, He had no place to lay "Mis head. Thrust from snug threshold of the inn, By pampered menials, sleek and warm. The King of Kings sought oxen bin, To shield him from the shrieking storm ! Scant welcome had He of His own, No sumptuous palace greets his quest, He tames the thunder neath his throne, He rules the north, the south, the west. He wields the lightning's lance of fire, And hurls the bolt 'thwart shaggy sea. He curbs the fierce volcano's ire, And bids red roses nurse the bee, A pure, stainless maid, his mother smiled, As on her breast he nestled warm, vShe, soothed and cherished and beguiled be-guiled The Dove . Divine, who dared the storm. 'No courtiers cringed beneath his nod. No lackeys fawned upon his word, Guided like a babe the Son of God, Cooed to his mother like a bird. The mother gazed upon the Child. With prescience of the coming years, Mary the Virgin undefiled. Smiled at the infant through her tears. She saw the cross on Calvary plain, She heard the dying Savior's moan, The Crown of Thorns weighed on her brain, The Roman legions mocked His groan. And wise men journeyed from afar, To view the wondrous babe divine, Led by the splendid sparkling star The Hope of our erring wayward line; An hoary age knelt to the child. Sole refuge of our guilty race, The heavenly hostage blithely smiled. And brought the world celestial grace. Hope of the world, the sages cried, The Babe of which our prophets told, You crushed the haughty serpent's pride, And brought the Iamb within the fold. Some splendid pagans sang your praise, Doonied like a thief to die in pain. On Calvary's cross to end your days, And crucified on Golgotha's plain. And wise men sought the Savior's shrine, , And pilgrim's journeyed from afar, To gaze upon the Babe Divine, As sailors hail the evening star. A rude stable was their dwelling place. Where cattle shivered in the cold, And yet the shepherds sought his grace. Which poets sung, and prophets told. They prayed to Him in foreign tongue, Incense they brought Him, rich and rare, Jewels and gold, and yet he clung, The closer to His mother's care. Her arms then circumscribed His reign. , And guided well His baby stride, Safely they shielded Him from pain, To slumber lulled Him by her side. Their crystal challenge to the sky. Keen Christmas bells are flinging gay. Their mellow murmurs, pealing high. Proclaim their blithesome roundelay. What matter if our purse is light. So are our hearts that bear no scorn Two thousand years ago tonight. The Prince of Peace, our Lord, was born! |