The Magi came to Bethlehem,
The House of Bread, and following them,
As they the Star, I too am led
To Christ, the living House of Bread.
A pilgrim from the hour of birth,
The night-cold bosom of the earth
I traversed, heavenward journeying,
A hidden prophecy of Spring
My only guide, a lifted blade
My only weapon, till the Shade,
The latest to withstand me, lay
Death-smitten at the door of Day.
O Light! O heavenly Warmth! to you
My cup-bearers, I quaffed the dew,
The pledge and sacramental sign
Of Life that mingling first with mine-
A sap-like inspiration-ran.
To mingle with the life of man.
As leaped the Infant in the womb,
At Mary's voice, e'en so to bloom
And ripeness, while the reapers sang,
My soul-their songs inspiring-sprang
To meet the scythe, the flail, the stone
Of sacrifice, whereby alone,
Through waves of palpitating flame,
The Bread upon the altar came.
And here, O mystery of Love!
Behold, from highest heaven above,
Through Me, the Son of God again,
A victim for the sons of men!