The wise men knelt at Jesus’ feet.
He was so small. He was so sweet,
sleeping upon his mother’s breast,
like a new fledgling in its nest.
Their gifts his small hands could not hold—
the myrrh, the frankincense, the gold.
He was too young to speak with them
who sought his face in Bethlehem,
but in their own deep hearts they heard
the accents of the mighty Word
of God being spoken for us all:
an infant in a cattle stall.
O dayspring, brighter than the sun!
O lovely, lowly, little one.
Sister Alice Smith, CSJ