O Rex Gentium
One day, out of the blue
a caravan of travellers came to town,
exotic in their clothes and tongue.
They came in from the west –
the road of dreams –
but pitched their tents towards the east,
to indicate they came in peace,
as father Abraham himself had done.
They set up camp, and all the while
the eyes of every Bethlehem child
held every move: our sentinels.
All, except one: my son.
Like any boy his age, he did not lack
boldness of heart, inquiring eye...
but nonetheless,
he looked up from the dust
in which he drew –
unfolding stories with a sweep –
and then turned back
to his own occupation. Sure enough,
when they were ready,
they came to him.
They next day, they were gone again,
as suddenly as they had come;
off on their onward journeying,
in search of precious hope
and rising faith
and costly love.
O Rex Gentium
O King of the Nations, and their desire,
the cornerstone making both one:
Come and save the human race,
which you fashioned from clay.
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