No room for Thee, O Baby Jesukin,
No room within the inn;
Only the stable door is standing wide,
And there inside
The ox and ass their patient foreheads bow
Before Thee now.
No room for Thee, O little Lord of all,
In cottage or in hall;
Yet o'er Thy stable angel voices sound
Telling around
To the wide world a Prince is born to them
In Bethlehem.
No room for Thee—yet the wise Kings have sped
To kneel beside Thy bed,
Offering their gifts, myrrh, frankincense, and gold,
To Thee to hold;
And all the angel armies of the air
Are gathered there.
No room for Thee—yet the wide earth is Thine,
And this poor heart of mine;
Though oft Thy Hand has tried its doors in vain,
Yet come again;
Wide open now it stands—O Light of Light,
Enter to-night.