THE BABE DIVINE

The shades of eve were falling on a cold December day, Two travellers, tired and weary,
Passed along, they could not stay; The inns were full, they had to go until a Cave they found, the breath of oxen warmed the air, while the snow lay on the ground.

It was there that Mother Mary and dear St Joseph too, the shepherds and the Magi, they were the chosen few, Adored the Infant Saviour on that first Christmas morn, Hosanna in the highest The Babe Divine was born.

Could I only see that vision by the light of a shining star, I'd send my wish in simple song
To exiles near and far, across the seas to other lands wher'ere their footsteps stray,
While angels sing and joybells ring this Holy Christmas Day.
But the real joy of Christmas is a love that must endure, by helping one another and especially the poor,
For they are always with us and we pray while angels sing, may they find peace and comfort from the Cradle of the King.

[Poem by Patrick Mc Cormack, Kildare 1900-1974]