Verbum

A Canticle of the Incarnation

Upon this eve, the world awaits
its shrieve, from He in manger crèche.
For nothing else man’s heart full sates
but Babe born fresh on frosted thresh.

For all men know is: lowly lie in snow;
a man has ne’er seen noble lord lay low.
Should man contend for lord to bend,
humility upon nobility send?

As shepherds tend, we tend to hope
that lion shall lie down with lamb.
Perverse, uncouth, for glory to descend,
for all dynamic force into flesh cram.

Obscene, likewise, for the All-Wise,
for the Source of Wisdom, to realize
in human sight, pervade all lies.
O! what beneficent surprise:

God made man arrives!

With sweet delight, He gently cries,
and all things false Divinity belies.
Too much this paradox is to surmise;
yet, all creation, falsity decries.

The crime that draws great King out from His Kingdom
permits the Happy Fault to subtly come,
through which He will dispel all odium
and take upon Himself sweet martyrdom.

In Bethlehem’s cradle lies man’s fullest Life—
the Lamb of God Whose reign, when ripe, be rife.