The Christmas Tree

'Twas on the night the Lord was born,

When through the festive town

A stranger child, and all forlorn,

Went wandering up and down.

At every house he stopp'd to gaze,

Where, hung with stars of light,

The Christmas-tree shot forth its rays

Through many a window bright.

Then wept the child, "Alas for me,

Here wandering all alone!

To-night all have their Christmas-tree,

But I—poor I—have none!

I too have play'd round such at home,

With sisters hand in hand;

And now a stranger child I roam,

Unpitied in the land.

"No loving smile awaits me now,

O holy Christ and dear;

Except thou love me, only thou,

I am forgotten here."

He spoke, when lo, with wand of light

And voice how heavenly sweet,

Another child, all rob'd in white,

Came gliding up the street.

"The holy Christ," he said, "am I,

A child the same as thee;

If all forget and pass thee by,

Thou'rt not forgot by me.

And I myself for thee will raise

A tree so full of light,

That those in yonder halls which blaze

Shall seem to fade from sight.

While yet he speaks, from earth to sky

A golden tree had sprung,

With stars in clust'ring radiancy

Amid its branches hung.

How near and yet how far it seem'd,

How bath'd in floods of light;

The child stood near and thought he dream'd,

It look'd so wondrous bright.

He thought he dream'd, while from above

The angels o'er him smil'd,

And gently stretched their arms in love

Towards the stranger child.

They lift, they bear him from the ground,

Up through the shining space;

And now the outcast one has found

With Christ his resting-place.