Calléd by his name

Why are the stars so multi-hued,
In blacks and browns and white?
Why is the world so richly round,
And the dark sky pierced with light?
Why is the earth of deepest red
And the bowl of whittled wood?
And why is a baby cradled there,
Encased in a golden hood?

There’s food for all within the bowl,
Gleaned from the costliest soil;
And as the poor of the world are fed
The earth rolls round aright;
With tender care and honest toil,
Here’s fodder for body and soul;
The stars with justice are crowned,
And the baby laughs with delight.

But who is the babe so snugly bound?
Whence came he, and what’s his name?
Like us, he calls himself a lamb,
To share our pastures he came.
One of our flock and born in our stall,
With his crook to guide us anew,
And arms flung wide to caress us,
He now is the shepherd of all.

Amen, little lamb, God bless you.
Amen, Little Lamb, God bless us.

(With thanks to Traidcraft ( for permission to use the illustration.)