He “had not where to place his head.”

He “had not where to place his head.”

Frances Harper

The conies had their hiding place, The Willy fox with stealthy tread. A covert found but Christ, the Lord had not a place to lay his head.

The eagle had an eyrie home, the blithesome bird it quiet rest, But not the humblest spot on earth Was by the son of God possessed.

Princes and Kings had Palaces, With grandeur could adorn each tomb, For him who came with love and life, they had no room, they gave no room.

The hands whose touch sends thrills of joy. Through nerves unstrung and palsied frame the feet that travelled from our need, where nailed unto the cross of shame.

How dare I murmur at my lot, Or talk of sorrow, pain and loss, When Christ was in a manger laid, And died in anguish on the cross.

That homes one behead beyond His lonely agonizing pain, A love overflowing from his heart, That all the wondering world would gain.

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