He "Had Not Where To Lay His Head."

The conies had their hiding-place,
    The wily fox with stealthy tread
A covert found, but Christ, the Lord,
    Had not a place to lay his head.

The eagle had an eyrie home,
    The blithesome bird its quiet rest,
But not the humblest spot on earth
    Was by the Son of God possessed.

Princes and kings had palaces,
    With grandeur could adorn each tomb,
For Him who came with love and life,
    They had no home, they gave no room.

The hands whose touch sent thrills of joy
    Through nerves unstrung and palsied frame,
The feet that travelled for our need,
    Were nailed unto the cross of shame.

How dare I murmur at my lot,
    Or talk of sorrow, pain and loss,
When Christ was in a manger laid,
    And died in anguish on the cross.

That homeless one beheld beyond
    His lonely agonizing pain,
A love outflowing from His heart,
    That all the wandering world would gain.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper was an African American abolitionist, suffragist, poet, teacher, public speaker, and writer. Born free in Baltimore, Maryland, she was one of the first African American women to be published in the United States. She was active in social reform movements and used her poetry and prose to advocate for abolition and women's rights. Her best-known works include the poetry collection "Forest Leaves" and the novel "Iola Leroy."

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Go Work In My Vineyard.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

The Refiner's Gold.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

Then And Now.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

Home, Sweet Home.

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

One of the Least of These.

'Twas on a day of cold and sleet,
A little nomad of the street
With tattered garments, shoeless feet,
    And face with hunger wan,
Great wonder-eyes, though beautiful,
Hedged in by features pinched and dull,
Betraying lines so pitiful
    By sorrow sharply drawn;

Ere yet the service half was o'er,
Approached the great cathedral door
As choir and organ joined to pour
    Their sweetness on the air;
Then, sudden, bold, impelled to glide
With fleetness to the altar's side,
Her trembling form she sought to hide
    Amid the shadows there,

Half fearful lest some worshiper,
Enveloped close in robes of fur,
Had cast a scornful glance at her
    As she had stolen by,
But soon the swelling anthem, fraught
With reverence, her spirit...

Hattie Howard

The Night Of Death.

Twas a night of dreadful horror, -
    Death was sweeping through the land;
And the wings of dark destruction
    Were outstretched from strand to strand

Strong men's hearts grew faint with terror,
    As the tempest and the waves
Wrecked their homes and swept them downward,
    Suddenly to yawning graves.

'Mid the wastes of ruined households,
    And the tempest's wild alarms,
Stood a terror-stricken mother
    With a child within her arms.

Other children huddled 'round her,
    Each one nestling in her heart;
Swift in thought and swift in action,
    She at least from one must part.

Then she said unto her daughter,
    "Strive to save one child from death."
"Which one?" said the anxious daughter,
    As she stood with b...

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

The Sparrow's Fall.

Too frail to soar - a feeble thing -
It fell to earth with fluttering wing;
But God, who watches over all,
Beheld that little sparrow's fall.

'Twas not a bird with plumage gay,
Filling the air with its morning lay;
'Twas not an eagle bold and strong,
Borne on the tempest's wing along.


Only a brown and weesome thing,
With drooping head and listless wing;
It could not drift beyond His sight
Who marshals the splendid stars of night.

Its dying chirp fell on His ears,
Who tunes the music of the spheres,
Who hears the hungry lion's call,
And spreads a table for us all.

Its mission of song at last is done,
No more will it greet the rising sun;
That tiny bird has found a rest
More calm than its mother's downy breast

Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

Christ Crucified

Now ere I slept, my prayer had been that I might see my way
To do the will of Christ, our Lord and Master, day by day;
And with this prayer upon my lips, I knew not that I dreamed,
But suddenly the world of night a pandemonium seemed.
From forest, and from slaughter house, from bull ring, and from stall,
There rose an anguished cry of pain, a loud, appealing call;
As man - the dumb beast's next of kin - with gun, and whip, and knife,
Went pleasure-seeking through the earth, blood-bent on taking life.
From trap, and cage, and house, and zoo, and street, that awful strain
Of tortured creatures rose and swelled the orchestra of pain.
And then methought the gentle Christ appeared to me, and spoke:
'I called you, but ye answered not' - and in my fear I woke.

Then next I heard th...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Stable Of Bethlehem.

'Twas not a palace proud and fair
    He chose for His first home;
No dazz'ling pile of grandeur rare,
    With pillar'd hall and dome;
Oh no! a stable, rude and poor,
    Received Him at His birth;
And thus was born, unknown, obscure,
    The Lord of Heaven and Earth.

No band of anxious menials there,
    To tend the new-born child,
Joseph alone and Mary fair
    Upon the infant smiled;
No broidered linens fine had they
    Those little limbs to fold,
No baby garments rich and gay,
    No tissues wrought with gold.

Come to your Saviour's lowly bed,
    Ye vain and proud of heart!
And learn with bowed and humbled head
    The lesson 'twill impart;
'Twill teach you not to prize too high
    The riches vain of earth -
Bu...

Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Nothing But Stones.

I think I never passed so sad an hour,
    Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night.
The edifice from basement to the tower
    Was one resplendent blaze of colored light.
Up through broad aisles the stylish crowd was thronging,
    Each richly robed like some king's bidden guest.
"Here will I bring my sorrow and my longing,"
    I said, "and here find rest."

I heard the heavenly organ's voice of thunder,
    It seemed to give me infinite relief.
I wept. Strange eyes looked on in well-bred wonder.
    I dried my tears: their gaze profaned my grief.
Wrapt in the costly furs, and silks and laces
    Beat alien hearts, that had no part with me.
I could not read, in all those proud cold faces,
    One thought of sympathy.

I watched them bowing a...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox