The Child: At Bethlehem

I

Long, long before the Babe could speak,
When he would kiss his mother's cheek
And to her bosom press,
The brightest angels, standing near,
Would turn away to hide a tear,
For they are motherless.

II

Where were ye, Birds, that bless His name,
When wingless to the world He came,
And wordless,--tho' Himself the Word
That made the blossom and the bird?