Alleluia! Christ is Born!

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all aright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s breast,
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world’s desire.)

The Christ-child stood at Mary’s knee,
His hair was like a crown.
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down.

— G.K. Chesterton


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  • Merry Christmas to you and your family, Mark!

  • Nate

    Merry Christmas to Mark Shea and all the readers of Shea’s blog. Blessings to you all.

  • Christ is Born!

    Glorify Him!

    Merry Christmas to Mark and all you readers out there in cyberspace.

  • Alias Clio

    When Jesus Christ was four years old,
    The angels brought Him toys of gold,
    Which no man ever had bought or sold.

    And yet with these He would not play.
    He made Him small fowl out of clay,
    And blessed them till they flew away.
    (Hilaire Belloc)

    I first encountered these verses in – strangely enough – Margaret Laurence’s novel, The Diviners, in which they become, for the narrator, a reminder of what true “creativity” is. We live by being blessed into life.