Classic Poem

In what low estate
Lies the God of all!
Cattle in their stall
Round about Him wait,
And His sweet Mother.

Who are these, that come;
Kneel, and bow the head,
Round His rude bed?
Earth, or Heaven, their home?
Say, sweet Mother!

Child or angel? Who
On this blessed night
Is it, till the light,
Shareth watch with you
Quietly, sweet Mother?

What is left unsaid,
Ask not. Spirits pure
Only may endure
Watch at this Child's bed,
With His sweet Mother

Grant us, Child, Thy grace,
With child's or angel's heart,
Here to do our part!
Grant us here a place
With Thy sweet Mother!