Scripture Verse

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


Words: Ma­mie Rep­pli­er, in Fount of Bless­ing, ed­it­ed by Ro­bert G. Sta­ples (Chi­ca­go, Il­li­nois & Cin­cin­na­ti, Ohio: Cen­tral Book Con­cern, 1880), page 122.

Music: R. A. Kin­zie (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know Kin­zie’s full name, or where to get a good pho­to of him or Rep­pli­er (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


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.