Passion Flowers (Watson)/A Little Stranger

For works with similar titles, see Little Stranger.

A Little Stranger.

Has a tiny speechless pilgrim
Strayed within your open door;
Mute and wonder-struck—a stranger,
Asking gifts from out your store?
Have you seen the mystic message
In the peaceful, azure eyes,
Have you paused to guess the meaning
Of their sweet, yet dumb, surprise?

Did you catch the faint, low echoes
Wafted from the land afar;
When the eager little pilgrim
Left the gates of heaven ajar—
In the hush of orient midnight,
When the shepherds lay asleep,
And the cool and slanting shadows
Wrapped the silent, drowsy sheep?

When the angels with their chanting
Roused the startled shepherd throng,
'Twas the message of the Christ-child,
Lent the gladness to their song.
"Love," they sang; "Divine, compelling,
Self-surrendered, Heaven unsealed—
All the mystery celestial
By the Christ-child now revealed."

Not a mortal babe more lowly,
Neither robe nor diadem;
Only heralded by seraphs,
Came the Babe of Bethlehem.
Since that night each tiny pilgrim
Welcomed to the homes of earth
Brings anew the precious tidings
Which proclaimed the Christ-child's birth.

Every little one is sacred
Since the Lord of light and life
Could descend an infant stranger,
Helpless in a world of strife.
Every little one brings tidings
In a speech beyond our ken;
And 'tis love, the sweet translation,
Must make clear to hearts of men.