She brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7
If you know Kinzie’s full name, or where to get a good photo of him or Repplier (head-and-shoulders, at least 200×300 pixels), would you ?
No room for Him, in whose small hand
The troubled sea and mighty land
Lie cradled like a grain of sand;
No room, dear Babe, for Thee
That Christmas night; and we
E’en dare to shut our sinful hearts
And turn the key.
Fling wide the door, and bid the Lord
Come in, come in.
In vain Thy pleading baby cry
Strikes our deaf souls; we pass Thee by,
Unsheltered ’neath the wintry sky.
No room for God? Shall we
Close bar our doors, nor see
Our Savior waiting just outside,
So turn the key.
Fling wide the doors! dear Christ, turn back!
The ashes on my heart lie black—
Of light and warmth a total lack.
This desolation drear
Has filled my heart with fear;
How can I bid Thee, Christ, my Lord,
Find entrance here?
What bleaker shelter can there be
Than my cold heart’s tepidity—
Chilled, wind-tossed as the winter sea?
I shrink from Thy pure eye:
To offer—naught have I;
Yet, in Thy mercy, Lord, I cry,
Pass me not by.