There’s a beautiful ladder of fine-spun cloud
That stretches from earth to sky
And up and down it the angels crowd
With calling and soft reply:—
Children of men, who only by sight
Know that the stars exist,
There was one that shone o’er the world last night
Through an aureole of mist.
They only saw it who had kept
The vigil of the seers
With inner sense; but ye who slept
Knew not the sign of the years.
The spirit of life became a star
And we the herald-host;
And we sang as the Wise Men gazed afar
And the Shepherds Heavenmost;
Joy to the world! For lo, is born
The Gift-Child! Echo on
And on forever song of morn,
Yet trembling into dawn!
Joy to the pure in heart! For thou
Alone dost know the worth
And meaning of the Gift, who bow
Before the Virgin-birth.
All hail Madonna’s Gift
That shall the earth to Heaven uplift!
All hail! Rejoice!