slow, slow and weak,

as first the tongue began to speak,

the hand to serve, the heart to feel,

grew up among our mutual deeds,

great flower out-topping all the weeds,

sweet fruit that meets all human needs,

our love—our common weal.

it spread so wide, so high,

we saw it broad against the sky,

down shining where we trod;

it stormed our new-born consciousness,

omnipotent to heal and bless,

till we conceived—we could no less,

it was the love of god!

came there a man at length

whose heart so swelled with the great strength

of love that would have way,

that in his body he fulfilled

the utmost service love had willed;

and the great stream, so held, so spilled,

pours on until to-day.

still we look back to this grand dream,

still stoop to drink at this wide stream,

wider each year we live;

and on one yearly blessed day,

seek not to earn and not to pay,

but to let love have its one way,—

to quench our thirst to give!

brothers, cease not to bless the name

of him who loved through death and shame,

we cannot praise amiss;

but not in vain was sown the seed;

look wide where thousands toil and bleed,

where men meet death for common need—

hath no man loved but this?

yea, all men love; we love to-day

wide as the human race has sway,

ever more deep, more dear;

no stream,—an everlasting sea,

beating and throbbing to be free,

to give it forth there needs must be

one christmas all the year!