I challenged and I kept the Faith, The bleeding path alone I trod; It darkens. Stand about my wraith, And harbour me--almighty God! THE BIRDS BY HILAIRE BELLOC When Jesus Christ was four years old, The angels brought Him toys of gold, Which no man ever had bought or sold. And yet with these He would not play. He made Him small fowl out of clay, And blessed them till they flew away: _Tu creasti Domine_. Jesus Christ, Thou child so wise, Bless mine hands and fill mine eyes, And bring my soul to Paradise. COURTESY BY HILAIRE BELLOC Of Courtesy, it is much less Than Courage of Heart or Holiness, Yet in my Walks it seems to me That the Grace of God is in Courtesy. On Monks I did in Storrington fall, They took me straight into their Hall; I saw Three Pictures on a wall, And Courtesy was in them all. The first Annunciation; The second the Visitation; The third the Consolation, Of God that was Our Lady’s Son. The first was of Saint Gabriel; On Wings a-flame from Heaven he fell; And as he went upon one knee He shone with Heavenly Courtesy. Our Lady out of Nazareth rode---- It was her month of heavy load; Yet was Her face both great and kind, For Courtesy was in Her Mind. The third it was our Little Lord, Whom all the Kings in arms adored; He was so small you could not see His large intent of Courtesy. Our Lord, that was Our Lady’s Son, Go bless you, People, one by one; My Rhyme is written, my work is done. NOEL BY HILAIRE BELLOC I On a winter’s night long time ago (_The bells ring loud and the bells ring low_), When high howled wind, and down fell snow (Carillon, Carilla). Saint Joseph he and Notre Dame, Riding on an ass, full weary came From Nazareth into Bethlehem, And the small child Jesus smile on you. II And Bethlehem inn they stood before (_The bells ring less and the bells ring more_), The landlord bade them begone from his door (Carillon, Carilla). “Poor folk” (says he), “must lie where they may, For the Duke of Jewry comes this way, With all his train on a Christmas Day.” And the small child Jesus smile on you. III Poor folk that may my carol hear (_The bells ring single and the bells ring clear_), See! God’s one child had hardest cheer! (Carillon, Carilla). Men grown hard on a Christmas morn; The dumb beast by and a babe forlorn. It was very, very cold when our Lord was born. And the small child Jesus smile on you. IV