The Son of God
The fount of Mary’s joy
Revealed now lies,
For, lo, has not the Boy
His Father’s eyes?
To St. Joseph
St. Joseph, when the day was done
And all your work put by,
You saw the stars come one by one
Out in the violet sky.
You did not know the stars by name,
But there sat at your knee
One who had made the light and flame
And all things bright that be.
You heard with Him birds in the tree
Twitter “Good-night” o’erhead,—
The Maker of the world must see
His little ones to bed.
Then when the darkness settled round,
To Him your prayers were said;
No wonder that your sleep was ground
The angels loved to tread.