Feast of the Epiphany

"Who knocks tonight so late," the weary porter said.
Three kings stood at the gate, each with a crown on head.
The serving man bowed down.  The inn was full, he knew.
Said he, "In all this town is no fit place for you."

A light the manger lit; there lay the Mother meek.
Said they, "This place is fit.  Here is the rest we seek."

Come.  Come.
They loosed their latchet strings; so stood they all unshod.
"Come in.  Come in, ye kings,
And kiss the feet of God."

Words: Laurence Housman
Music: Healy Willan
Art: Henry Siddons Mowbry