THE ANGELS OF THE CRIB, LUKE 2:12
"THE ANGEL OF THE CHILD JESUS" by: St. Thérèse
This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in
bands of cloth and lying in a manger.’ LUKE 2: 12
FROM “THE ANGELS OF THE CRIB.” (FRAGMENT).
THE ANGEL OF THE CHILD JESUS.
Thou Word of God, Thou Glory of God!
In awe I gazed on Thee above;
And now I see that Glory of God,
That Word of God, made Man through love.
O Child, whose light doth blind the sight Of angels in high heaven divine!
Thou’rt come to save the world to-night, And who can fathom that love of Thine?
In swaddling bands The Child-God flies.
Lord of all lands!
Trembling before Thy face I veil mine eyes.
Yes, who can fathom this marvellous thing?
God makes Himself a little Child, He, the eternal, almighty King,
Afar from His own heaven exiled!
Fain would I give Thee love for love! Thee will I guard by day and night,
My utter fealty to prove, Thou tiny Jesu, Light of Light!
Thy cradle so dear Draws angels anear. O Child-God! now
Trembling before that humble crib I bow.
While earth has power from heaven to bring My King to want and cold and woe,
Heaven holds no longer anything
To keep me from that world below.
My wings shall shield Thy Baby-head; Thee will I follow everywhere;
Beneath Thy tiny feet I’ll fling
The sweetest flowers and most fair.
Oh, would some radiant star might fall, To form Thy cradle, Baby bright!
Would I the dazzling snow could call, To be Thy curtains pure and white!
Would all the lofty hills might bow In lowly homage at Thy feet!
Oh, would the fields might bloom for Thee, Celestial blossoms heavenly sweet!
For all the flowers are smiles of God, Are distant echoes from His throne,
Are notes that wander far abroad
From that great harp He holds alone.
Those notes of harmony divine Relate His goodness unto men,
And in their melody combine
To tell His saving love again.
O that sweet melody,
Exquisite harmony,
Silence of flowers!
Ye tell His greatness, His wonders, His powers!
Well know I, Jesu! that Thy friends,
Thy dearest friends, are livingflowers.
Thou travellest to earth’s farthest ends,
To cull them for heaven’s fadeless bowers.
Souls are the flowers with beauty rife
That draw Thee from the heavens high;
Thy tiny hand first gave them life,
And Thou for them wilt gladly die.
Mystery ineffable!
Thou, Word adorable, Surely shalt one day weep
When Thou the harvest of those flowers shalt reap.
~ St. Thérèse of Lisieux
Journal: Write a similar poem about the Angel of the Child Jesus
ART: Draw / paint / doodle / cartoon a picture inspired by this poem.
Creative Writing: “Oh, would some radiant star might fall, To form Thy cradle, Baby bright!”
Imagine St. Thérèse writing these words. What is the expression on her face? What does she look at outside her window? What is she thinking of as her pen moves across the page? What does the cradle look like when it is formed by “some radiant star”.