While they were there, the time came for her to be delivered.
She gave birth to her first-born son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths, and laid him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
Photo on the top of this page was taken from the article “Rohingya refugee mothers tell their story” on the OXFAM website
Poem
Emily Dickinson
I many times thought Peace had come
When Peace was far away—
As Wrecked Men—deem they sight the Land—
At Centre of the Sea—
And struggle slacker—but to prove
As hopelessly as I—
How many the fictitious Shores—
Before the Harbor be—
Away in a Manger
Away in a manger
No crib for a bed
The little Lord Jesus
Lay down His sweet head
The stars in the sky
Look down where He lay
The little Lord Jesus
Asleep on the hay
The cattle are lowing
The poor baby wakes
But little Lord Jesus
No crying He makes
I love Thee, Lord Jesus
Look down from the sky
And stay by my side
‘Til morning is nigh
Be near me, Lord Jesus
I ask Thee to stay
Close by me forever
And love me I pray
Bless all the dear children
In Thy tender care
And take us to heaven
To live with Thee there
Take us to heaven
To live with Thee there
“We look forward to the time when the power to love
will replace the love of power.
Then will our world know the blessings of peace.”
William Ellery Channing