Where shepherds lately knelt and kept the angel’s word,
I come in half-belief, A pilgrim strangely stirred;
but there is room and welcome there for me.
In that unlikely place I find him as they said:
Sweet, newborn Babe, and in a manger bed:
A still small Voice to cry one day for me.
How should I have not known Isaiah would be there,
His prophecies fulfilled?
With pounding heart I stare:
A Child, a Son, The Prince of Peace, for me.
Can I, will I forget how Love was born and burned
Its way into my heart:
Unasked, unforced, unearned,
To die to live, And not alone for me.
–Jaroslav J. Vajda