The Road to Bethlehem

Watson Kirkconnell

Above the road to Bethlehem
When I was very young,
A twilight sky of tender blue
With golden stars was hung;

And kneeling at the stable-door,
I happily confessed
My humble worship of the Child
Who slept at Mary’s breast.

But now the road to Bethlehem
Seems cold and steep and far;
It wanders through a wilderness
Unlit by any star.

The earth I tread is frozen hard;
The winter chills my breath;
On either hand rise evil shapes
From valleys dark with death.

The air is tense with moans of pain,
Mingled with cries of hate,
Where bloodstained hills and shattered stones
Lie back and desolate.

How can the sacred heart of God
Heal all this guilt and grief?
Lord, I believe. And yet, this night,
Help Thou my unbelief!

Purge Thou mine eyes, that they may see
Thy Star across the gloom!
Touch Thou my heart, that it may lose
These agonies of doom!

Now in the darkness guide my feet,
Give holy strength to them
To walk with childlike faith once more
The road to Bethlehem!

Watson Kirkconnell (1895–1977) was a Canadian scholar, university administrator and translator.