Sunday, January 01, 2006

Little Jesus

Little Jesus, was Thou shy Once, and just so small as I?
And what did it feel like to be Out of Heaven, and just like me?
Didst Thou sometimes think of there, And ask where all the angels were? I should think that I would cry For my house all made of sky;
I would look about the air, And wonder where my angels were; And at waking twould distress me Not an angel there to dress me!
Hadst Thou ever any toys, Like us little girls and boys?And didst Thou play in Heaven with allThe angels that were not too tall,With stars for marbles?
Did the things Play Can you see me? through their wings?And did Thy Mother let Thee spoilThy robes, with playing on our soil?How nice to have them always new In Heaven, because twas quite clean blue! Didst Thou kneel at night to pray, And didst Thou join Thy hands, this way?And did they tire sometimes, being young,And make the prayer seem very long?And dost Thou like it best, that weShould join our hands to pray to Thee?
I used to think, before I knew,The prayer not said unless we do. And did Thy Mother at the night Kiss Thee, and fold the clothes in right?And didst Thou feel quite good in bed, Kissed, and sweet, and Thy prayers said?
Thou canst not have forgotten allThat it feels like to be small: And Thou knowst I cannot prayTo Thee in my fathers way.
When Thou was so little, say,Couldst Thou talk Thy Fathers way?
So, a little Child, come down And hear a childs tongue like Thy own;Take me by the hand and walk, And listen to my baby-talk.To Thy Father show my prayer(He will look, Thou art so fair), And say: O Father, I, Thy Son,Bring the prayer of a little one.And He will smile, that childrens tongue Has not changed since Thou wast young!

1 comment:

Hans Georg Lundahl said...

Think you might enjoy:

En lengua romance en Antimodernism y de mis caminaciones : The Boy Who Made Stars