Christmas, A Poem by Peter Howard

Statesman with your promise,

Rich man with your power,

Who will light the nations

Through this midnight hour?

Dark the heart of millions

Hungry to be fed,

Bitter at their toiling –

Who will give them bread?


Wisdom can be humble,

Wise men from afar

Knew themselves for nothing

Following a star.


Kings who left their kingdoms,

Humbly they trod,

Bearing thrones as offerings,

They were taught of God.


Proud men, bring your knowledge;

Frightened men, your fears;

Stubborn men, the hatreds

Of your wasted years.


Ye who would – but dare not;

Ye who dare – but fail;

Every living creature,

Valiant and frail.


See the thin brained cattle,

Wiser than you all.

Ox and ass together

Kneeling at the stall.


God Himself in heaven

Raised His head and smiled

As the wise and foolish

Journeyed to a Child.


God Himself is leaning

Out of heaven’s bar,

Waiting till men humbly

Follow on a star.


Peter Howard was a British journalist and leader of MRA (IofC UK) from 1961 – 1965. 

Photo of ‘Christmas Crib’, currently on display, in St Martin in the Fields, Trafalgar Square, London. Created by Peter Eugene Ball, a Nottingham-based sculptor, whose work can also be found in Winchester Cathedral, Birmingham Cathedral and Southwell Minster. 

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