The Gray Brethren and Other Fragments in Prose and Verse Part 2

"The Kingdom is a great one, nay, a limitless one; and many enter in calling it by another name. It includes your own hearts and this wonderful forest, all the wise and beautiful works that men have ever thought of or done, and your daily toil; it includes your nearest and dearest, the outcast, the prisoner, and the stranger; it holds your cottage home and the jewelled City, the New Jerusalem itself. People are apt to think the Kingdom of Heaven is like church on Sunday, a place to enter once a week in one's best: whereas it holds every flower, and has room for the ox and the a.s.s, and the least of all creatures, as well as for our prayer and worship and praise.

"'Except ye become as little children.' How are we to be born again, simple children with wondering eyes?

"We must learn to lie in helpless dependence, to open our mouth wide that it may be filled, to speak with halting tongue the language we think we know; we must learn above all our own ignorance, and keep alight and cherish the flame of innocency in our hearts.

"It is a tired world, my brethren, and we are most of us tired men and women who live on it, for we seek ever after some new thing.

Let us pa.s.s out through the gate into the Kingdom of Heaven and not be tired any more, because there we shall find the new thing that we seek. Heaven is on earth, the Kingdom is here and now; the gate stands wide to-night, for it is the birthright of the Eternal Child. We are none of us too poor, or stupid, or lowly; it was the simple shepherds who saw Him first. We are none of us too great, or learned, or rich; it was the three wise kings who came next and offered gifts. We are none of us too young; it was little children who first laid down their lives for Him; or too old, for Simeon saw and recognised Him. There is only one thing against most of us--we are too proud.

"My brethren, 'let us now go even to Bethlehem, and face this thing which is come to pa.s.s, which the LORD hath made known unto us.'"

The lights were out in the church when the Recluse came to fetch the Child. She was still kneeling by the creche, keeping watch with the wonderful figures of fire and mist.

"Was THIS a dream or the other?" said the Child.

"Neither," said the Recluse, and he blessed her in the moonlit dark.

The air was full of wonderful sound, voices and song, and the cry of the bells.

The Manifestation

G.o.d said; "Let there be light"; and in the East A star rose flaming from night's purple sea - The star of Truth, the star of Joy, the star Seen by the prophets down the lonely years; Set for a light to show the Perfect Way; Set for a sign that wayfarers might find; Set for a seal to mark the G.o.dhead's home.

And three Kings in their palaces afar, Who waited ardently for promised things, Beheld, and read aright. Straightway the road Was hot with pad of camel, horse's hoof, While night was quick as day with spurring men And light with flaring torch. "Haste, haste!" they cried, "We seek the King, the King! for in the East His star's alight."

BETHLEHEM

The Angels

Soft and slow, soft and slow, With angels' wings of fire and snow, To rock Him gently to and fro.

Fire to stay the chill at night, Snow to cool the noonday bright; And overhead His star's alight.

Pale and sweet, pale and sweet, Maid Mary keeps her vigil meet, While Joseph waits with patient feet.

Mary's love for soft embrace, Joseph's strength to guard the place.

Lo! from the East Kings ride apace.

Gold and myrrh, gold and myrrh, Frankincense for harbinger, Myrrh to make His sepulchre.

Roses white and roses red, Thorns arrayed for His dear Head.

Hail! hail! Wise Men who seek His bed

Joseph

Little One, Little One, Saviour and Child, Father and Mother, my Husband and Son; Born of the lily, the maid undefiled, Babe of my Love, the Beatified One.

Little One, Little One, Master and LORD, Kings of the Earth come, desiring Thy Face; I, Thy poor servitor, lowly afford All that my life holds, for all is Thy Grace.

Little One, Little One, G.o.d over all, Earth is thy footstool, and Heav'n is Thy throne: Joseph the carpenter, prostrate I fall; Praise thee, adore Thee, and claim Thee mine own.

Maid Mary

Babe, dear Babe!

Mine own, mine own, my heart's delight, The myrrh between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s at night, My little Rose, my Lily white, My Babe for whom the star's alight.

Babe, dear Babe!

Mine own, mine own, G.o.d'S only SON, Foretold, foreseen, since earth begun; Desire of nations, Promised One When Eve was first by sin undone.

Babe, dear Babe!

Mine own, mine own, the whole world's Child!

Born of each heart that's undefiled, Nursed at the breast of Mercy mild, And in the arms of Love asiled.

Babe, dear Babe!

My crown of glory, sorrow's sword, My Maker, King, Redeemer, Lord, My Saviour and my great Reward; My little Son, my Babe adored.

The Three Kings

Hail! Hail thou wondrous little King!

To Thy dear Feet Our offerings meet With bended knee we bring; O mighty baby King, Accept the offering.

First King

LORD, I stoop low My head of snow, Thus I, the great, hail Thee, the Least!

And swing the censer for the Priest, The Priest with hands upraised to bless, The Priest of this world's bitterness.

As I stoop low My head of snow, Bless me, O Priest, before I go.

Second King

Behold me, King!

A man of might, Who rules dominions infinite; Strong in the harvest of the years, And one who counts no kings as peers.

O little King, Behold my crown!

I lay it down, And bow before Thy lowly bed My all unworthy uncrowned head, For I am naught and Thou art All.

And Thou shalt climb a throne set high, Between sad earth and silent sky, Thereon to agonize and die; And at Thy Feet the world shall fall.

Stretch out Thy little Hands, O King, Behold the world's imagining!