Chapter 1 No.1

Why was not room made for thy mother in the inn?

Why wert thou manger-cradled, Lord? Could not heirship

From Israel's greatest king procure for her

Who bore thee, more than a pallet of straw in a stall;

And for thee a cradle of fine linen and soft down?

Why did not an angel whisper: "Blest inn-keeper,

Give thy best, this is Christ, Son of the Living Lord?

Is the world to know only its own? Thankless man,

Never to practice thy teaching; or see thy star?

Is he waiting for signs and wonders; believing

Battalions of angels will compel him to worship?

Thy birth-night, did not the heavens declare thy glory?

Did not an angel choir sing thy cradle hymn?

Yet to man thou remainest the carpenter's son;

Though the wise of earth waited-and prophets foretold;

Lauding Bethlehem of Judah as thy birthplace.

"And thou Bethlehem, Land of Judah,

Art in no wise least among the princes of Judah,

For out of thee shall come forth a ruler,

Who shall be shepherd of thy people Israel."