What did ye see, ye wond’ring sons of light,
That one by one, uprising from your thrones,
Ye should come down into earth’s wretchedness,
To listen to her groans?
What did ye see, when with sad, solemn gaze,
As though some startling vision had been given,
Ye turned your straining eyes to this dark world,
Ye who were used to heaven?
Ah! ye had waited long, with heads bowed low,
And souls in rapt expectancy attend;
For well ye knew a promise had been given,
But knew not what it meant.
And still those Eden memories had returned,
As vast unmeasured ages swept along,
And measured in the depth of many a heart,
The swelling thought grew strong.
Low whisperings had been heard, and seraph hands
Had trembled as they held the golden strings;
There seemed such heavy breathing on the air
Of deep mysterious things!
Words unfamiliar—Sin, and Death, and Blood,
Had found a stifled utterance, one by one,
Linked in some new strange meaning with His name—
The well-beloved Son!
What did ye see—long poised on steady wing
Where humble men were watching flocks of sheep?
Close folded to a virgin-mother’s breast,
A little Babe asleep!
Ah! we in our poor world had heard of Love,
And ye had sung it in your own bright heaven,
And ever and anon from loving hearts
New impulses were given.
New notes of praise were added to the song;
But ye had never learned the tale of Grace,
Until ye saw its golden letters written
Upon that Infant’s face!
What did ye see? O Gabriel, to thine ear
A word of wondrous import had been spoken,
And on the echoes of a listening world
That mighty word had broken.
And was it so that on that Baby brow
Ye were to read the mystery all complete?
And cherubim and seraphim to bow
Before those Infant feet?
Hush, harps of heaven! It is too strange a song,
Its notes may falter on th’ unpracticed string;
Wait till a blood-bought church shall raise the strain
That angels cannot sing.
C. P.