IN THE HUSH BEFORE THE DAWN OF GRACE

 

God sent Jesus to earth to be born in a stable, among oxen, donkeys and sheep. Extra-biblical traditions name camels, horses and other livestock as also in the stable at the time of Christ's Birth. 

God looked down and chose that His Son be born in a palace of innocence and love, among those who do not murder or hurt or hate.

The Gospel of God's Son would first be preached to the innocent of the world who would look upon Christ and love Him, not seek to kill Him. 

So Jesus came to be born of a Virgin Mother and protected by a devoted Foster-Father, among the loving presence of sweet animals.

Where no hand was raised against Him

In the hush before the dawn of grace,
When heaven bent to kiss the earth,
God beheld the world of restless hearts
And chose, with tender, sovereign worth -

Not marble halls nor thrones of might,
Nor courts where pride and power reign,
But lowly beams and borrowed light,
A stable worn by wind and rain.

There, where the oxen gently fed,
And donkeys breathed the quiet air,
Where sheep in drowsy clusters spread
Their wool like clouds of patient prayer;

And, as old whispers softly tell,
Where camels knelt and horses stood,
A humble, breathing, living well
Of creaturely and blameless good . . .

“I give My Son,” the heavens said,
“To dwell where innocence is known,
A palace not by kings be made,
But hearts that harm not flesh and bone.

Let Him be first by these adored,
Who do not wound, nor scheme, nor hate;
Let beasts receive their quiet Lord
Before the proud and learned great.

For they will gaze and not conspire,
They will draw near and not condemn;
No hidden blade, no vengeful fire,
Only a gentle warmth in them.”

So came the Child, so small, so mild,
Jesus Christ in straw and shadow laid to rest,
The Holy One, the undefiled,
At peace on nature’s humble breast.

And Mary watched with wondering, silent eyes,
Her heart a cradle deep and wide,
While Saint Joseph kept his faithful guise,
A guardian standing close beside.

No sword was raised, no hatred stirred,
No voice of scorn, no cruel decree;
Only the quiet, living Word
Among the meek of land and lea.

O mystery soft as breathing hay,
O wisdom clothed in earthen guise -
That Love should choose such hidden way,
And open first the simplest eyes.

Image courtesy of ChatGPT and CN Whittle, "Nativity scene in a quiet stable"