When winter’s night lay deepest, cold, and long,
A star came stooping from the fields of heaven;
Its beam fell soft, yet pierced the dark like song,
And made the hoarfrost glow as light was given.
The oxen stood in silence, breathing steam,
Like ancient watchers round a hidden flame;
Their eyes reflected what no tongue may dream,
The Word made flesh, who soon would bear our name.
There in a manger rough with splintered wood,
Lay Love incarnate, small and poorly clad;
Yet kings knelt low where simple shepherds stood,
And offered treasure to the Child they had.
Gold for His kingship, though He wore no crown,
Frankincense ascending like a prayer,
Myrrh for the grave that waited to drag down
The Lord of Life—who triumphed even there.
The night was cruel, the wind was bitter-sharp,
Yet mercy opened wide its iron door;
An angel choir struck heaven’s silent harp,
And glory sounded where was none before.
Therefore we sing through centuries of snow,
Of One who came a Babe, and comes again;
The empires crumble, still the carols grow—
“Peace upon earth, good will toward men.” Amen.
Passionately Pursuing Christ 