When a mighty mass of rock
Is torn by some tremendous shock
From a skyey cliff and madly pours
Adown the steep with echoing roars
Tearing along a deep-ploughed track
With clouds of dust up-rolling back
In the depth it strikes and stops with a shriek;

    There where it fell, its motion gone,
It lies a helpless inert stone;
Nor while the changing ages run
Will it again behold the sun
That gilded erst its lofty home,
Unless some friendly power come
To lift it from its tomb.

    So helpless lay the guilty son
Of woe, when the first sin was done ­
The day ineffable that heard
The vengeful sentence and the word
That sunk him then and sinks him still
To lowest deeps of every ill ­
Powerless his haughty will.

    Whoever of the sons of hate,
Who, who among the reprobate
To Him whom none can see and live
Could come and say: 'Forgive, forgive'?
Could make a new compact for aye,
Which from the Foe in full array
Should tear his captured prey?

    Behold, for us a Child has been won,
To us has been vouchsafed a Son;
The hostile powers with trembling bow
And cower beneath his awful brow;
To man His mighty hand He gives.
The wretched, helpless, moribund lives
And honor new achieves.

    From the House upon the mountain
Gushes now a heavenly fountain,
Through the vale of thorny woes
Spreading living comfort goes;
Apples exude from stumps of trees,
Fragrance floats on every breeze,
Flowers bloom, the thistle flees.

    O Thou begot eternally
Of the Eternal, one with Thee,
Which 'mong the endless ages can
Declare: 'With me Thy race began'?
Thou art. And of Thy vast command
The whole contains not Thee. Thy hand
Has made and makes it stand.

    And Thou didst not disdain to take
On Thee this clay which Thou didst make?
What merit its, what grace of Thine
Allotted honor so divine?
If in His hidden counsel He
Will pardon so mysteriously,
What pity His must be!

    To-day He was born. At Ephrata's gate,
To an hostelry lowly and vaticinate
Ascended the Virgin, the wonder of story,
The Hope of the world and Israel's glory,
Bearing the marvelous weight in her womb.
Of Her He was born as He promised to come
Very heir of Humanity's doom.

    The Virgin Mother, faint and wan,
Wrapped some poor cloths about her Son
And in a crib where oxen staid
Her wonderful Infant softly laid.
Then she adored Him, bowed before
Her God, who had vouchsafed her
Pure womb to unbar.

    Not at the sleepless guarded gates
Of earth's imperial potentates
A herald-angel of the sky
Announced to men so great a joy;
But to shepherds low and lone,
By this hard world unsought, unknown,
Bright flashing, he came down.

    Thousands round him in the air
Showering, like an army fair
Through the broad expanse of night
Crowded on their blazing flight,
Fire of zeal and sweetness bringing,
As in Heaven their song is ringing
To the Highest singing.

    Rolled up the hymn of hallowed mirth
Withdrawing slowly from the earth
Across the parting clouds on high,
Ascending deeper in the sky,
Faint and more faint at each remove,
Till to the ears of faithful love
The notes were lost above.

    Swift the favored shepherds went
To the lowly inn with minds intent;
There they saw in the manger laid
Where the hornéd oxen staid ­
Saw the swaddled Infant lie
Welcomed thus; and heard faintly
The King of Heaven cry.

    'Heavenly Infant, do not weep;
O celestial Earth-born, sleep;
Nor above Thy royal head
Dare the roaring tempests spread,
Wont, like stallions trained for war,
Mad o'er impious lands afar
To lead Thy vengeful car!

    'Peaceful sleep, fair stranger! now
Thee Earth's nations do not know,
But the day will come when they
Shall be found beneath Thy sway;
When they Thee ­ the lowly thing
Hid in the dusty stable ring ­
Shall recognize their King.'