Long, long ago, in manger low
  Was cradled from above
A little child, in whom God smiled,
  A Christmas gift of love.

When hearts were bitter and unjust,
  And cruel hands were strong,
The noise he hushed with hope and trust,
  And peace began her song.

But, sometimes, when God's Christmas gifts
  Seem only frost and snow,
And anxious stress and loneliness
  And poverty and woe;

Straightway provide a welcome wide,
  Nor wonder why they came;
They stand outside our hearts and bide,
  Knocking in Jesus' name.

For trouble, cold, and dreary care
  Are angels in disguise;
And, greeted fair with trust and prayer,
  As peace and love they rise!

They are the manger, rude and low,
  In which a Christ-child lies:
O welcome guest, thy cradle nest
  Is always God's surprise!

From Jane Andrews and
William Channing Gannett, 1840-1923

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