She brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
Luke 2:7
Words: Harriet M. Kimball, Poems (Boston, Massachusetts: Little, Brown, 1911), pages 109–10.
Music: Greenwood (Sweetser) Joseph E. Sweetser, A Collection of Church Music (New York: John Wiley, 1849), number 161 (🔊 pdf nwc).
Alternate Tunes:
If you know where to get a good photo of Sweetser (head & shoulders, at least 200×300 pixels),
Thou, the eternal Son
Though of Thy glory shorn;
Thou, very God of very God
Though man of Mary born—
Is there no room for Thee
Even in Bethl’hem’s inn?
Dost Thou who comest to Thine own
From them no welcome win?
Dost Thou the bitter cross
So eagerly embrace
For us, and we for Thee prepare
No poorest dwelling place?
No room for Thee? No room
For love and sacrifice
Such as no mortal could conceive
And none but Thou devise?
O sweetest Jesus, hear!
Though I am poor indeed,
I know I can provide a spot
To meet Thy lowly need.
Such love as Thine must crave,
Above all other things,
The love of those on whom ’tis spent,
And all that loving brings.
For love is shelter, food,
A bed of down, a throne;
Its very breath obedience
To him whom it doth own.
Come, sweetest Jesus, then,
In this poor heart abide;
And I shall love Thee more and more
Till love is satisfied.