And he was bent on plunder -- a nomad thief was he!
He did not heed the starshine that glimmered from
on high,
For laden beasts had traveled along the lonely way.
He did not see the glory that swept the Eastern sky,
For he had far to journey before the dawn of day.

He followed through the desert, and then at last he
saw
An inn upon the outskirts of some small village place;
And there were camels resting before the stable
door --
He left his horse, crept nearer, with greed upon his
face;
And peering o'er the threshold, he saw that gold was
piled,
With precious stones and incense, before a little
Child.


II.

A thief he was by calling, who to the stable came,
A thief whose youthful fingers had learned to steal
their fill;
A thief he was who valued his heritage of shame,
YET STANDING BY THAT DOORWAY, HE DID NOT WANT TO
KILL!
A thief he was, but -- watching, -- he saw a Baby face,
And, bending near, a Mother, whose joy was undefiled;