Ah, wilt thou turn aside and see
The little Child on Mary's knee?
Enter the stable bleak and cold,
Grope through the straw and myrrh and gold;
Seek in the darkness near and far--
Lift up the lantern and the Star.
Rough shepherds came to love and greet,
There knelt three kings at Mary's feet.
Ah! draw thee nigh the holy place--
He sleepeth well in her embrace,
The little Saviour of thy race--
Then raise thine eyes to Mary's face.

But wilt thou come in years to be?
She held Him dead across her knee.
Stretch Him aloft on planks of wood;
Offer Him gall for tears and blood.
Blazon thy hatred far and near:
Lift up the hammer and the spear.
Red thorns about his head were wound--
There lay three nails upon the ground.
Yea I Heed the Lover of thy race--
He lieth dead in her embrace.
Ah! scourge thy soul with its disgrace:
Then raise thine eyes to Mary's face.


_TO CHOOSE_