Classic Poem

In vesture white, the Eternal Child
Lay on his Mother's lap and smiled:
What joy to see that longed-for sight—
Her spotless Lily of delight,
Her Love, her Dove, her Undefiled.
She recked not of the anguish wild,
The sorrow upon sorrow piled,
His dead Form swathed one awful night
In vesture white.

Oh, let our hearts, this birthday bright,
The sorrow and the joy unite;
While, by the twofold grace beguiled
Of suffering Man and Infant mild,
We walk with him on Faith's calm height
In vesture white.