This poem was composed by Fr. Aedan McGrath during his third Christmas in prison in China. He had no paper so he had to create the poem and memorize it immediately.

T’ was Caesar’s vanity that caused so much
Disturbance in their little home that day,
A soldier bidding them to have their names
Enrolled at Bethlehem with out delay.

To Joseph’s mild appeal for patience on
Behalf of Mary for her time was due,
No answer but the gruffest words to move
At once or bitter consequences rue.

There was no choice but leave that day and hope
To make their home again before the birth.
Thus Mary seated on an ass is led
By Joseph bearing things of little worth.

Anxiety was stamped upon his face
When they arrived one day in Bethelehem.
So crowded was that street that slender were
The chances of a vacant place for them.

If they were rich or well dressed ther would be
No douth about a place or even choice,
But being poor the only answer was
“No room” in a decided tone of voice.

A poor and sympathetic stranger, moved
By Mary’s beauty and apparent plight,
Suggested that outside the walls there was
A stable that might house them for the night.

A sign from Mary showing that it must
Be so, and even thus without delay,
Had prompted Joseph to proceed at once
To find it and the Will of God obey.

In truth was it a stable differing in nought
For mall they knew, with dusty walls
And muddy floor and dampness in the air
And oxen an a-munching in their stalls.
Poor Joseph did his best, with sinking heart,

To sweep those walls and cover floor with straw
And set about to find some branches dry
To let a fire dispel that dampness raw.
Returning to that hut he was amazed

To find not darkness as their was before,
But Light within that Crib wherein there lay

A Babe-with Mary kneeling to adore.
He dropped his sticks and knelt beside the cot
In silent adoration of the Child,
His God –Redeemer and his nation’s hope

Before him lay – so helpless and so mild.
The Shepherds of the Jewish race who heard
From Angels of the Child, and where to find,
Approaching offered gifts of tiny lambs
And bent their knees and reverent heads inclined.

Close followed by three Kings of Gentle Birth
Who had by God’s bright star been surely led,
And found the hut and offered precious gifts-
Thus paying royal tribute in our stead.

Ah, Jesus, born in direst poverty,
Without a sign of comfort e’er so slight.
I thank Thee for the Grace to spend three feasts
A little less unlike that Christmas night.