Christmastide

I may not go to-night to Bethlehem, Nor follow star-directed ways, nor tread The paths wherein the shepherds walked, that led To Christ, and peace, and God's good will to men. I may not hear the Herald Angel's song Peal through the Oriental skies, nor see The wonder of that Heavenly company Announce the King the world had waited long. The manger throne I may not kneel before, Or see how man to God is reconciled, Through pure St. Mary's purer, holier child; The human Christ these eyes may not adore. I may not carry frankincense and myrrh With adoration to the Holy One; Nor gold have I to give the Perfect Son, To be with those wise kings a worshipper. Not mine the joy that Heaven sent to them, For ages since Time swung and locked his gates, But I may kneel without--the star still waits To guide me on to holy Bethlehem.