for the birthplace of His only Son. And here at midnight the Son of God was born; the Word was made Flesh and dwelt amongst us.
Mary bowed herself down to adore. Here was the Messiah she had so longed to see. Here was Jesus who by bitter pain was to save His people from their sins. Oh, how soon He had begun His work, she thought, as she looked upon the tiny limbs that lay trembling on the straw. Yes, this was He who, Gabriel said, should be great and should be called the Son of the Most High. A Roman judge, struck by His meek majesty, will say to Him one day: "Whence art Thou?" All through the first Christmas night His Mother is asking Him this question, not because she does not know, but because she cannot get used to the wonderfulness of the answer. She knows He has come from the highest heaven, from the right hand of the Father to whom He is equal in all things. And still He is her very own Babe, crying for her, nestling to her like any other helpless child.
She adores Him as her God. And then she takes Him up in her arms, wraps Him up in swathing bands, and lays Him in the manger on a handful of straw, the best that Joseph can find about. She is grateful to the two animals which share it with Him and stand over Him warming Him a little with their breath. The words of Isaias come to her mind: "The ox knoweth his owner and the ass his master's crib, but Israel hath not known Me, and My people hath not understood."[1] No one ever understood and pondered the Scriptures as she did, and the words of prophecy come to her one by one as she worships there. This tiny Child is the Leader of God's people whom Micheas said
- ↑ Isaias i.
