No room at the inn for the Lord of Life, No place for the baby head, And the child of Love in his swaddling clothes Was laid in a manger-bed. No room,—and I ponder the story old Of that peaceful Christmas night, Of the crowded inn, and the sleepers there Who saw not the blessed light; Who heard not the song that the angels sang Of the Christ child's holy birth, And only the watching shepherds knew Of the love that had come to earth.
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