THIS is Christ's birthday: long ago br He lay upon His Mother's knee, br Who kissed and blessed Him soft and low-- br God's gift to her, as you to me. br br br My baby dear, my little one, br The love that rocks this cradling breast br Is such as Mary gave her Son: br She was more honoured, not more blest. br br br He smiled as you smile: not more sweet br Than your eyes were those eyes of His, br And just such little hands and feet br As yours Our Lady used to kiss. br br br The world's desire that Mother bore: br She held a King upon her knee: br O King of all my world, and more br Than all the world's desire to me! br br br I thank God on the Christmas morn, br For He has given me all things good: br This body which a child has borne, br This breast, made holy for his food. br br br High in high heaven Our Lady's throne br Beside her Son's stands up apart: br I sit on heaven's steps alone br And hold my king against my heart. br br br Across dark depths she hears your cry; br She sees your smile, through worlds of blue br Who was a mother, even as I, br And loved her Child, as I love you.