Who is this man who hides his face?
Father Joseph he.
Father of all the chosen race –
Father of you and me –
Father of God's own Son by grace:
See how he takes his silent place
Among the Holy Three.
Holy Virgin, Holy Child,
Given into his care.
One, like ourselves, by sin defiled,
Lord of our only Fair!
Bows he his head, abashed and mild;
How his Son's Father must have smiled
To hear his humble prayer!
In from the night and winter's cold,
Worshippers throng the stall.
Shepherds forsake their fields and fold,
Moved by an angel's call.
Kings come from far with myrrh and gold,
Jewry's deliverer to behold;
Down on their knees they fall.
These things Mary ponders in her heart
Sweeter than words can tell;
Joseph, silent and apart,
Ponders them all as well.
Soon will the pangs of Passion start;
Sword-blades will pierce and thorns will smart
Ere Christ has harrowed Hell.
Yet first and last is a mighty joy,
Christmas and Easter Day,
And Joseph smiles as he stands so coy
In the shadows amid the hay.
Then let praise ring without alloy
For the birth of Joseph and Mary's Boy,
And all men's hearts be gay!