Two Poems for Your Wednesday

This is the irrational season
When love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
There’d been no room for the child.

-Madeleine L'Engle

That Holy Thing
by George McDonald

They all were looking for a king
To slay their foes and lift them high;
Thou cam’st, a little baby thing
That made a woman cry.

O Son of Man, to right my lot
Naught but Thy presence can avail;
Yet on the road Thy wheels are not,
Nor on the sea Thy sail!

My how or when Thou wilt not heed,
But come down Thine own secret stair,
That Thou may’st answer all my need-
Yea, every bygone prayer.