Advent to Candlemas (Vol. 1)

Were he born now

1. Were He born now
The wind would have its moan,
The rain lash,
The thunder growl,
The lightning flash:
No sparkling snow
Hardening against the blue,
No frost bite,
No ice crack,
No clear night.

2. No sun nor star
But creeping, speckled smoke,
The flash flood,
The brown fog,
The blighted bud:
Yet He would reign
From tenement or slum,
The same Son,
The same Cross,
The same Tomb.