English poem
A Murillo
by Eleanor C. Donnelly (1838–1917)
The lovely Christ-Child, like a lily, lies Within His Maiden Mother’s pure embrace— The azure depths of her adoring eyes, The faithful mirrors of His glorious face!
The while upon her bosom, warm and white, She shelters Him, with love and tender awe, From the bleak darkness of the winter night, From the rough manger and the bristling straw,
The shepherds at the dazzling Vision stare; The gentle beasts, at Joseph’s touch, bow down; And angel choirs in vibrant tones declare That Christ is born a babe in David’s town!
O Babyhood, the harbinger of hope To every babe enthroned on woman’s breast! O Motherhood, within whose gracious scope All lesser motherhood is shrined and blessed!
No sceptred Cæsar can dispute your sway— Angels or men your golden mission claim— For yours is Christ—to-day and yesterday, And thro’ the eternal ages, still the same!