Here is the Little Door

Adoration of the Magi, by Fabriano

Happy Epiphany!

In honor of this great feast, I simply had to share with you this heartbreakingly beautiful poem that I just discovered: "Here is the Little Door," by Frances Chesterton (wife of the more well-known G. K. Chesterton).

Here is the little door, lift up the latch, oh lift!
We need not wander more but enter with our gift;
Our gift of finest gold,
Gold that was never bought nor sold;
Myrrh to be strewn about his bed;
Incense in clouds about his head;
All for the Child who stirs not in his sleep.
But holy slumber holds with ass and sheep.

Bend low about his bed, for each he has a gift;
See how his eyes awake, lift up your hands, O lift!
For gold, he gives a keen-edged sword
(Defend with it Thy little Lord!),
For incense, smoke of battle red.
Myrrh for the honoured happy dead;
Gifts for his children terrible and sweet,
Touched by such tiny hands and
Oh such tiny feet.

And here is a recording of the poem set to music by Herbert Howells, performed by Chanticleer. I cannot listen to it without tearing up.