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Most Holy Child Jesus.


They bow down low to the ground, and offer rare gifts: bright gold to the Infant King; sweet frankincense to God, who has come on earth; bitter myrrh to the Son of Man, who is to die for men.

Far have these brave hearts travelled. Over hill and plain they followed the star which guided them. They heeded not the ties of home, nor hung back from the toil and danger of a long winter's journey.

Nothing could keep them back.

Not the jeers of friends who thought them mad.

They have seen the star of the holy Child; it is enough.

It told of the Light of the world, the Light of God, which was to shine in Israel, in the midst of a dark drear world; and now they are come.

They have found the Light. It is Jesus, who is the Light of heaven.

He is in a rude stable, but they heed not its poverty.