Kings should offer gold, rich, royal men –
And I am poor and no red gold have I; Must I stay in the cold, sad shadows then, While kings in light spread splendours splendidly? Saints should offer incense, holy men – My shabby soul is soiled and stained with sin; Must I wait, shut without the stable then, While saints join kings to offer gifts within? Lo, I am not alone, but round me here In the wan shadows, waiting wistfully With nothing else to bring but only myrrh, Stands silent, shy, a grey-clad company. ’Tis well for us, we of the common crowd, That we may bring sad symbollings of myrrh, Where God lies sleeping ’neath a stable shroud Of common straw, and leave our offerings there. We will be glad the incense makes a veil To hide us somewhat, and the saint’s pure prayer Goes with the golden gifts where we must fail; Yet we will dare to bring our meed of myrrh. Father Andrew SDC, 1869-1946
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