t hoar-frost lay on the ground, and straw and
stubble littered the palace floor of Him who walks on the jasper and
chalcedony parquetting of the floors of heaven. And there was the gentle
Joseph, with a reverent, wondering look on his worn features; and there
the conscious, self-possessed, but adoring expression on the sweet face
of the Child-Mother; and there the helpless form and pleading hands of
Him whose omnipotence stretches through infinity, and in whose fingers
colossal suns and their systems are but the playthings of this moment in
His eternal existence, which we call Time. Three shepherds stood around,
dazed at some sudden light that shone from the face of the Infant; one,
a boy, leaned forward as if to raise in his arms that sweet, helpless
Babe; his hands were stretched towards the manger, and a string held the
broad hat that fell between his shoulders. And aloft an angel held in
his hand a starry scroll, on which was inscribed _Gloria in excelsis
Deo_. I stood amongst my awestruck congregation for a few minutes. Some
were kneeling, and uttering half-frantic ejaculations of adoration,
pity, and love; some leaned against a pillar, silent, but with tearful
eyes; little children pointed out to each other the different features
of this new wonder-world; but all around, the fervid Celtic imagination
translated these terracotta figures into living and breathing
personalities. It was as if God had carried them back over the gulf of
nineteen centuries, and brought them to the stable door of Bethlehem
that ever memorable night. I think it is this realization of the
Incarnation that constitutes the distinguishing feature of Catholicity.
It is the Sacred Humanity of our Lord that brings Him so nigh to us, and
makes us so familiar with Him; that makes the Blessed Eucharist a
necessity, and makes the hierarchy of Bethlehem, Jerusalem, and Calvary
so beloved,--beloved above all by the poor, and the humble, and the
lowly. Listen to this!

"Oh, dear, dear, and to think of our Lord with the straw under Him, and
His feet covered with the frost of that cowld night--"

"And the poor child! Look at her; why, she's only a little girl, like
Norah; and not a woman near to help her in her throuble."

"Look at His little hands stretched out, like any ordinary child. Glory
be to His Holy Name. Sure, only for Him where 'ud we be?"

"And poor St. Joseph! No wondher he's fretting. To think of thim two
cratures in his hands, and he not