Again the Christ­mas board is spread,
Again we ga­ther round;
And thanks too deep for words go up
To God with­out a sound.

Thanks for the com­mon bless­ings first,
The com­mon­est of all,
The dai­ly bread, the man­na sweet,
That ne­ver fails to fall.

The dai­ly bread, the dai­ly joy,
The greet­ing morn and eve,
The kiss of love, the kiss of peace,
Which dai­ly we re­ceive.

And if with all the joy He sends
Some grief is al­so there,
We praise Him still that He doth give
The pa­tience that can bear.

Can bear, and through the bear­ing find
Within the hard­est lot,
Some hid­den grace which none may know
Save those who have it got.

But shall this mer­ry time go past,
And thanks re­main un­sped
For Him who said so long ago,
I am the liv­ing Bread?

For Him, star-lit by Ma­ry’s smile,
Whom sim­ple shep­herds found,
And wise men from the brood­ing East,
Where ox­en stood around?

No won­der that they worshipped Him!
He was a ba­by sweet;
They had been fool­ish not to kneel
And kiss His ro­sy feet.

But lit­tle recked they as He lay
In such a low­ly place,
That He should be the Man of men,
The cap­tain of His race.

We dif­fer when we speak of Him,
Our words are not the same,
But in our hearts there burns for aye,
One un­di­vid­ed flame.

Our words must dif­fer, but our hearts
Still yield Him rev­er­ence due;
We love in spite of all our creeds;
Our love at least is true.

And if, above the star­ry skies,
He knows of what is here,
He knows there is a place for Him
At all our Christ­mas cheer.