Birth of a Prince

A mantle white, a woman’s hand

On back of donkey in strange lands

She travels far on hard, dry earth

While she awaits her baby’s birth.


A gasp of pain, the woman starts

She knows it in her heart of hearts

The child now is on its way,

But where shall poor young mother lay?


Her husband runs, in haste, in need

Dashing up and down the village streets

But no rooms are left in any inn

For all must visit the land of their kin.


The woman moans, the man cries out,

A desperate plea for innkeeper’s help,

At last a place for them is found—

A small mean cavern in the ground.


Yet gratefully, their faces glow

Quickly to the stable they go

While woman’s labor pangs grow sharp,

God’s waiting angels tune their harps.


A final push, a thin, high wail,

Her baby is born, a princely male.

The angels burst into heavenly song,

Praising the Christ child for all the night long.


By Stormy Nights