Classic Poem

So poor, so humble, in such solitude,
Amid the lowing of the patient kine,
So barely sheltered in the stable rude
We find Thee, Babe Divine;
O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

Here born of Virgin Mother, spotless Maid,
Who folds Thee to her rapt, adoring breast,
Thou art content obscurely to be laid
By the proud world unguessed;
O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

Though hosts seraphic gird Thy Throne on high
No earthly throngs Thy Holy Birth attend;
No shouts of joy, though praises fill the sky,
Earth's bitter silence rend;
O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

As with the darkness of Thy natal night
Thou veilest all the glory of Thy Face;
Thou who art God of God, and Light of Light,
The Fount of joy and grace;
O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

This want, this loneliness, this manger bed
That hint the story of Thy coming woe
When Thou wilt have nowhere to lay Thy head,
Thou willest even so;
O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

And while our eyes a gathering shadow see —
The shadow of Thy cross — upon Thee fall,
Thine own are fixed upon our crown to be
And nought can Thee appall;
O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!

Oh that these tongues Thy love could fitly sing!
These hearts with praise (as Thine with anguish) break!
All that we have in worship would we bring
For Thy dear glory's sake;
O Jesu! sweetest Jesu!