A thief he was by calling, who to the stable came,
A thief whose youthful fingers had learned to steal
their fill;
A thief he was who valued his heritage of shame,
YET STANDING BY THAT DOORWAY, HE DID NOT WANT TO
KILL!
A thief he was, but--watching,--he saw a Baby face,
And, bending near, a Mother, whose joy was undefiled;
And for one breathless moment across the stable
space,
The Baby's eyes gazed at him--AND THEN THE BABY
SMILED!
A thief he was by calling, but there beside the door
He saw a Holy Vision--he knelt and tried to pray--
And something, thrilling, whispered of love forever-
more--
And then he rose, half weeping--and it was Christmas Day!
A thief he was by calling, who felt the Father's plan,
But back across the desert there silent rode a man!