Gilbert Keith Chesterton

(29 May 1874 – 14 June 1936 / London, England)

Here Is The Little Door - Poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Here is the little door, lift up the latch, oh lift!
We need not wander more but enter with our gift;
Our gift of finest gold,
Gold that was never bought nor sold;
Myrrh to be strewn about his bed;
Incense in clouds about his head;
All for the Child who stirs not in his sleep.
But holy slumber holds with ass and sheep.

Bend low about his bed, for each he has a gift;
See how his eyes awake, lift up your hands, O lift!
For gold, he gives a keen-edged sword
(Defend with it Thy little Lord!),
For incense, smoke of battle red.
Myrrh for the honoured happy dead;
Gifts for his children terrible and sweet,
Touched by such tiny hands and
Oh such tiny feet.


Comments about Here Is The Little Door by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

  • Susan Williams (2/11/2017 3:19:00 PM)


    I don't believe I have ever read a faith poet more powerful than this (Report) Reply

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  • (2/11/2017 11:04:00 AM)


    holy slumber holds with ass and sheep. A lovely poem. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 15, 2012



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