Poem December 17, 1949 Issue

THE STARS WERE BRIGHT

Grace Nixon Stecher

The stars were bright above Judean hills
In that hushed hour before the dark gave way;
And one moved low across the vales and rills
To mark the place where little Jesus lay.

The Wisemen followed through the royal night
To lay rich gifts upon the stable floor,
And many a wilding creature felt the light
And came up blinking to his cavern door.

The world slept on, nor knew the holy thing
That had unfolded softly as a flower
While angels chorused and the snowy wing
Of peace hovered above the sacred hour.

How dark the years between, and how forlorn,
If there had been no babe of prophecy;
If there had been no resurrection morn,
How dark it might be now for you and me.

Grace Nixon Stecher

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