  Four thousand years earth waited, Four thousand years men prayed, Four thousand years the nations sighed, That their King delayed. The prophets told His coming, The saintly for Him sighed, And the Star of the Babe of Bethlehem Shone o'er them when they died. Their faces toward the future, They longed to hail the light, That in after centuries Would rise on Christmas nights. But still the Saviour tarried In His Father's home, And the nations wept and wondered why The promised had not come. At last earth's prayer was granted, And God was a child of earth, And a thousand angels chanted The lowly midnight birth. Ah! Bethlehem was grander That hour, than Paradise; And the light of earth, that night, eclipsed The splendors of the skies. Abram J. Ryan. |
|
