The children's star-crowned Bethlehem,
The children's 'house of bread,'
Where Jesus' arms encircle them,
With milk and honey fed:—
Such is the Church, whose altar-gates
Stand ever open, when
The board is furnished where He waits
To feast the hearts of men.
A Babe He came one heart to bless
(It is His cradle still),
And evermore her blessedness
Is theirs who do His will;
A Child He trod the Temple-floor,
By Mary Mother led;
By children's voices evermore
His praise is perfected.
'Forbid them not,' He said of old:
The words so stern and sweet
Still make believing mothers bold
To gather at His Feet,
And bring their babes; their hearts discern
(And oh, that others would!)
How mother-like His Heart must yearn
Who made their motherhood.
A happy Home where children pray,
With milk and honey fed,
Whose altar-hearth burns bright alway,
Whose board is richly spread:—
Such is the Church; and sweet the song
Her little children sing,
Of all who round His Altar throng
The dearest to our King.