The Holy Child

Mary and her infant, Jesus.

 

The Holy Child.

Rome was the world's proud mistress,

And would tax her subjects all:

Thus every man, to his own town,

Received Imperial call.

And Joseph, wed to Mary,

Must go to Judah's land,

And, with the sons of David,

Must take his lineal stand.

Then, from Nazareth, he journeyed,

With his fair and gentle spouse

To Bethlehem of Judea,

The place of David's house.

But when-- their journey ended--

They sought repose to win,

Their lodging was a stable,

So crowded was the inn. 

And to that stable, lowly,

In humble, human guise,

There came a babe most holy,

Descended from the skies.

'Tis written that the angel

Had to the virgin come,

And told her that this Holy Child

With her should make his home.

And now a rosy light from heaven

On Bethlehem's city shone;

And this was the first Christmas

The world had ever known.

For Jesus was the promised Christ,

So long ago foretold--

The Kind that all the Jewish race

Were longing to behold.