Christmas Poems

Only in the last few years have I discovered Ann Weems and her little book of poems entitled Kneeling in Bethlehem. However, the poetry that I return to each Christmas is a hymn by Brian Wren, #158 in the Chalice Hymnal. I've heard it sung only once and wasn't too impressed with the melody but the imagery he uses intrigues me.

Her Baby, Newly Breathing
Her baby, newly breathing, with wailing needful cry,
by Mary kissed and cradled, is lulled in lullaby.
Long months of hope and waiting, the thrill and fear of birth,
are crowned with exultation,and God is on the earth.

The eyes that gaze at Mary have yet to name
and trace the world of shape and color, or recognize a face;
yet Holiness Eternal is perfectly expressed
in hand that clutch unthinking, and lips that tug the breast.

The milk of life is flowing as Mary guides and feeds
her wordless Word, embodied in infant joys and needs.
Enormous, formless strivings, and yearnings deep and wide,
becradled in communion, are fed and satisfied.

How mother like the Wisdom that carried and gave birth
to all things, seen and unseen, and nurtured infant earth:
unstinting, unprotected, prepared for nail and thorn,
constricted into maleness, and of a woman born.