Originally from: Ron
                        
CHRISTMAS

Now once again the old year wears
Round to an end: on every side
Men?s roving fancies, busy cares,
On wearying wing from far and wide
Come homing back to Christmas-tide.

The old scenes live; the manger-bed,
The flocks by night, the kneeling kings.
The old faith calls; but now, instead
Of answering faith, our musing brings
Doubt and uneasy questionings.

So full our life and manifold,
So wise in varied lore we are,
?Mid myriad voices, lights untold,
How should we hear that Word afar,
Or follow such a distant star?

Yet seeing human wisdom tires,
And human power has feet of clay,
And men grow sick of their desires,
Dare we, in this our urgent day,
Shrug the old Christmas faith away?

So we are come. No gifts we bring,
No treasures such as kings amass;
With but our need, our questioning,
Into the manger let us pass,
To wonder there with ox and ass.

J. W. HARVEY