THE CHRISTMAS GUEST.

THE CHRISTMAS GUEST.
432.3

Whoso shall come my way this night,
By moor or hill or shore,
For him the Blessed candles’ light,
For him the open door.
(Oh, Mary, this for Thy Son’s sake Though mine comes in no more!)

My hearth is swept, my Yule logs burn,
My board is decked and spread;
For any who may seem in turn
Is warmth and wine and bread.
(Ob. Mary, grant my son this night Be housed and comforted!)

Bid, banned or beggard come for guest,
My heart shall share his woes
And on his head my hand shall rest
To bless him ere he goes.
(Oh, Mary, grant my son this night That blessing and repose!)

This night for Thy one Son’s dear suke
Wait light and warmth and wine.
Oh, Mary, we be mothers both,
Take these, my tears, for sign
And this I do for Thy sweet Son,
Wilt thou not do for mine?
-Thodosta Garrison.