The Magi met the shepherds, whose tongues were lit with praise
Along the road beneath the star that split in many ways
“Whither rests this King whom Prophets did divine?
We have wandered many days to see this lord sublime.
His are all the nations, people, and the lands
His alone the sceptre, won with wounded hands.
Men will call him ‘master’, ‘prince of peace, and life’
And among his flock and fold, ‘saviour from our strife’
Pray tell then joyful shepherds, where is this King we seek?
This King of whom the people say will bruise great Caesar’s cheek.”
The shepherds paused a moment before their mouths could stir
And eyed the gifts beneath their robes — the glint of gold, and myrrh
“Of this King, we know not, but if you seek the star
Further Westward you must go, but do not wander far
Past rolling hills of poppies, crimson at the stem
You will find a stable bare, in little Bethlehem
No regal lord resides there, good and kindly strangers
Merely by the ox and ass — a babe upon the manger.”
Then with haste to lay their gifts those tired Wise Men three
Beheld the heir to Eden’s stain and dark Gethsemane.
(The Three Wise Men – Robert Cunningham. Source)