The Nativity

Off in a field some shepherds

Were suddenly wracked with fright.

They dared not lift their faces

To a sudden, brilliant light.

 

"Fear not," some voices told them,

"We have just come down to say

That Christ the King, the Blessed Savior,

Has been born on earth this day."

 

The angels turned to leave then,

Their voices sweet and clear;

"Glory! Peace! Salvation!

The Son of God is here."

 

While yonder in the distance

A star hangs low above the earth;

Above the unpretentious stable where

Our Virgin Queen gave birth.

 

There Jesus Christ incarnate

Lies on a bed of straw;

So humble and so helpless,

As they gaze on Him with awe.

 

The holiness of Heaven

Engulfs this lowly cave

Where GOD ALMIGHTY slumbers —

This newborn human babe.

 

How can our senses fathom

The sheer wonder of it all —

The King of Kings so poorly throned

In an ox's bare and bleak stall.

 

See the ox and ass beside Him.

How they dumbly look at Him.

They make no move to wander,

Quite content to stay with Him.

 

 See Joseph there to guard Him —

His protector from all harm.

See Him snuggle close, content,

To be clasped in Mary's arm.

 

And thus unfolds this story

Of how our God was born;

Lowly, simply, humbly,

On that first chill Christmas morn.

 

Oh, how do we know He loves us?

The Truth is plain to see.

He came to earth, taught His Way,

And gave His Life for you and me.

 

    I have just read the poem I wrote for you, Jesus, about your terrific humility in being born as a human baby on earth, and now, to me, you are alive here in this room. I can see your eyes, they are brown and shining and I think there is a twinkle of humor in them. I always feel that when I can see your eyes look at me you are close to me; then when my heart skips a beat as it just did, I really am aware of your presence.

   When I read that poem, Jesus, I get cold chills — the part where it says: “God Almighty slumbers in this new-born human babe,” and then, “How can our senses fathom the sheer wonder of it all” — it is such an unbelievable thing, beyond words to explain.

     I have gone over that poem so many times, Jesus, because I wanted it just right for you — each word the exact one to say and what I had in mind. I chipped and hacked at it, changing a word and phrase here and there like a sculptor, and even when I finally felt I could do no more with it and typed off the finished product, I thought — when I read it again I still found it necessary to make some more changes. I think I'll have to re-type it again to get it just right. The trouble is, no words are adequate, and certainly I am not artistic enough to express the dynamic impact of God's coming down to earth as a helpless human baby.

    That last stanza in the poem still bothers me. I can't get just the right touch to picture exactly what I am trying to paint in words. Wait just a minute...

    Now, I just worked on it some more, I tore apart that stanza and restructured it in different words and a slightly different thought … Now, I think I've got it.

     I’ll lay it aside and sleep on it tonight and tomorrow I'll read it again in the revised form and maybe — success?

10/16/80

    I have re-read the whole thing. E fatto, as the Italians say.