Nativity Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb, Now leaves his well-beloved imprisonment, There He hath made Himself to His intent Weak enough, now into our world to come; But Oh, for thee, for Him, hath th’ Inn no room? Yet lay Him in this stall, and from the Orient, Stars, and wisemen will travel to prevent Th’ effect of Herod’s jealous general doom. Seest thou, my Soul, with thy faith’s eyes, how He Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie? Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high, That would have need to be pitied by Thee? Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go, With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe.   -- John Donne (1573-1631)     ------------------ Christmas Prayer   Let not our hearts be busy inns, That have no room for Thee, But cradles for the living Christ And His nativity.   Still driven by a thousand cares The pilgrims come and go; The hurried caravans press on; The inns are crowded so!   Here are the rich and busy ones, With things that must be sold, No room for simple things within This hostelry of gold.   Yet hunger dwells within these walls, These shining walls and bright, And blindness groping here and there Without a ray of light.   Oh, lest we starve, and lest we die, In our stupidity, Come, Holy Child, within and share Our hospitality.   Let not our hearts be busy inns, That have no room for Thee, But cradles for the living Christ And His nativity. -- Ralph Cushmen (b. 1879)