Immensity, cloister’d in thy dear womb, 
Now leaves His well-beloved imprisonment.  
There he hath made himself to his intent  
Weak enough, now into our world to come.  
But O !  for thee, for Him, hath th’ inn no room ? 
Yet lay Him in this stall, and from th’ orient,  
Stars, and wise men will travel to prevent  
The effects of Herod’s jealous general doom.  
See’st thou, my soul, with thy faith’s eye, how He  
Which fills all place, yet none holds Him, doth lie ?  
Was not His pity towards thee wondrous high,  
That would have need to be pitied by thee ?  
Kiss Him, and with Him into Egypt go,  
With His kind mother, who partakes thy woe. 

-John Donne

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The Savior must have been

A docile Gentleman—

To come so far so cold a Day

For little Fellowmen—

The Road to Bethlehem

Since He and I were Boys

Was leveled, but for that ‘twould be

A rugged Billion Miles—

-Emily Dickinson

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