When Joseph and Mary so wearily wended
Their way from their cottage in Nazareth’s street,
Then slept with the oxen in Bethlehem’s stable,
And laid in a manger their Baby so sweet,
Enduring discomfort and squalor and hardship,
Compelled by a merciless tyrant’s decree,
Few were there on earth who in such tribulation
God’s greatness and goodness and glory could see.


God’s glory we see in the sun, moon and planets,
In river and ocean, in mountain and plain,
In flowers and butterflies, forests and gardens,
In moors with their heather and fields full of grain.
But angels sang “Glory” when in great privation
Our Lord came in Bethlehem’s manger to lie;
For His greatest glory’s the glory of loving,
That led Him to suffer, that led Him to die.


Lord, give us Your glory, the glory of loving,
A love for all people, the great and the small,
For saints and for sinners, for friends and for strangers,
For black folk and white, like Your love for us all,
A love like Your own that for others is ready
To suffer great hardship if that should ensue;
You said that whenever we love other people
We also, in doing so show love to You.


Roland Howorth.
Rathmell, North Yorkshire