My Fair-haired boy, my blue-eyed son,
I see you as one lately come
From foreign lands and shores unknown;
And fearfully I look upon
Your face, and wonder what you are –
Native of a distant star.
A window to worlds beyond the sky
I see within your shining eye,
And from your infant lips I hear
A word to crush the man of war,
To silence scholar, scribe, and sage
From sun to sun and age to age.
My blue-eyed boy, my fair-haired son,
Your cradled head recalls the morn
When Heaven’s bright Sun came down to sleep
Among the oxen and the sheep:
Who grew so wise and kind and good
They nailed Him to a cross of wood.
When moon and stars are dimmed with tears,
And the passage of the fading years
Obscures my eye and fogs my head,
I’ll look to you in hope and dread
Lest world and flesh and evil one
Have made a man of you, my son.