Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/118

Man's inner vision, veiling from the Sun,
And with His Light of life confounding all!

O my own baby boy! my child!
Thou art the Father of my soul!
In thee the Lord, the Undefiled,
Came on earth to make me whole.
"Welcome, Child Jesus!" on the walls
Our hands had wrought with berries gay,
In the season of snowfalls,
For we were nearing Christmas Day.
And thou wert leaving us, my love!
Nay, rather, faith beheld thee born!
Then was the advent of the Dove,
Our Christmas, and our Easter morn!
When he flew forth, our fluttered bird,
Carolling toward the sun,
Within our mournful souls there stirred
The living Child, the Eternal One!
Welcome, Child Jesus! Christ is come
In glory, not in earthly weed!
Still a child, He makes His home
Within our soiled and lowly need,
From His own Life our lives to feed.
He is called Eric, and He dwells
In our soul's flower-hallowed dells,
By Lady Memory's holy wells;
Ah! not under the heather bells!