Christmas, 1884

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Christmas, 1884

Though in my heart no Christmas glee,

Though my song-bird be dumb,

Jesus, it is enough for me

That thou art come.

What though the loved be scattered far,

Few at the board appear,

In thee, O Lord, they gathered are,

And thou art here.

And if our hearts be low with lack,

They are not therefore numb;

Not always will thy day come back⁠—

Thyself will come!