O bloody town of Bethlehem,How shrill we hear thee cry. Your mothers shriek while fathers weep The graveyard lullaby. For butchers clad as soldiers At Herod’s mad behest Aborted weal with blades of steel They thrust in tender chests.
O Bethlehem, thou House of Tears, What balm can heal thy woe? When darkness looms, can flowers bloom, From seeds of grief you sow? Dear Heaven, share thy secret: These sons died not in vain. Young martyrs bold, in death foretold, A Death that Life would gain.
Ye martyred boys of Bethlehem, From ‘neath the altar, pray To Christ your Lord, whom Herod’s sword Slew not that awful day. Rachel, Rachel, weep no more, Your sons shall dry your tears. For flowers bloom where darkness loomed, Since Christ our Light appears.
If you enjoy my writings, please consider purchasing my newly published book, The Infant Priest: Hymns and Poems. This poetry gives voice to the triumphs and tragedies of life in a broken world. Whether you weep, rejoice, struggle, or hope, through these hymns and poems you can speak to God with honesty and fidelity. By buying a copy, you will also aid mission work, for 25% of the proceeds from book sales go to benefit Lutherans in Africa. Click here to purchase your copy. Thanks!