The Silent Stars Go By

Harriet Hartridge Tompkins

O Little Child of Bethlehem,
Why do your young eyes grieve?
What do your outstretched arms implore
Of us this Christmas Eve?

“Look! In the dark streets shineth
No Everlasting Light,
Hearts, crucified by daily fears,
Watch through the silent night.

“Their arms hold tight to little ones,
Tear-blinded eyes turn East,
Too tired to ask for more than crumbs,
Dropped from My Christmas Feast.”

O little Child of Bethlehem,
Descend to us, we pray,
And show our hearts how best to share
With these, on Christmas Day.