An Ox Blessed


Wondrous night!
I gazed, I gazed
With wondrous sight
Transfixed, amazed!

My stable bare,
'Tho warm and clean
A palace rare
With royal sheen
Became, with angels,
All so keen
To touch the Holy Child

An Ox Blessed

And I, poor Ox
With breathy low
My praises gave
In utterance slow.
I would that He,
Could know that I,
An Ox could love
Him, till I die!

>But stay, His hand
Outstretched to me,
My ears a thrilling
To his touch!
My fur was rumpled
With Holy Fingers
And I, an Ox,
Was blessed.

Sheila Jakobsson