As those rough shepherds did before the Holy Child
(Scarred legs, snagged teeth, frost-bite stung)
So before the Blessed Sacrament we kneel,
Though less we bring, though less we bring
Not with love's astonishment enough
Nor with generous belief and unreserved
Adoring, marveling, pure bliss,
The less we serve, the less we serve
And yet He is the same, the same new born
Hope and resurrection, unspoiled light,
Untouched as yet by jealousy and scorn,
Loved still with reverent delight, with reverent delight
The same, the same, who in the tabernacle lives,
Who was adored by those rough men and plain,
Who by the flesh was given up and killed,
Who by the life of Him remains, remains
