O magnum mysterium!

O magnum mysterium,
et admirabile sacramentum,
ut animalia viderent Dominum natum,
iacentem in praesepio:
Beata Virgo, cuius viscera
meruerunt portare Dominum Christum.

What a great mystery,
what a wonderful sign,
that animals should see the Lord, new-born,
lying in a manger!
Blessed is the Virgin, whose womb
was privileged to carry Christ the Lord.

      ∼  From the Roman Breviary, the Matins of Christmas

Tu scendi dalle stelle

(Video: "Tu scendi dalle stelle", a very old and popular Christmas italian song)
Post by Friar Alessandro
https://www.facebook.com/video.php?v=834822269913637&fref=nf

YOU COME DOWN FROM THE STARS

You come down from the stars
Oh, King of Heavens,
And You come in a cave
in the cold, in the frost,
And You come in a cave
in the cold, in the frost.

Oh, my Divine Baby
I see you trembling here,
Oh, Blessed God
Ah, how much it costs You,
Your loving me.
Ah, how much it costs You,
Your loving me.

For You, who are for all the world
The creator,
No clothes and no fire,
Oh, my Lord,
No clothes and no fire,
Oh, my Lord.

Dear Child, little infant,
This poverty,
Makes me love You more,
Since Love made You
poor now,
Since Love made You,
poor now!

Meditation on Christmas Eve
ANGELO GIUSEPPE RONCALLI (POPE JOHN XXIII)
This was written on Christmas Eve, 1902 by a young Italian named Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli who was studying for the priesthood in Rome.

Night has fallen; the clear, bright stars are sparkling in the cold air; noisy, strident voices rise to my ear from the city, voices of the revellers of this world who celebrate with merrymaking the poverty of their Saviour. Around me in their rooms my companions are asleep, and I am still wakeful, thinking of the mystery of Bethlehem.

Come, come, Jesus, I await you.

Mary and Joseph, knowing the hour is near, are turned away by the townsfolk and go out into the fields to look for a shelter. I am a poor shepherd; I have only a wretched stable, a small manger, some wisps of straw. I offer all these to you, be pleased to come into my poor hovel. I offer you my heart; my soul is poor and bare of virtues, the straws of so many imperfections will prick you and make you weep -- but oh, my Lord, what can you expect? This little is all I have. I am touched by your poverty. I am moved to tears, but I have nothing better to offer you. Jesus, honour my soul with your presence, adorn it with your graces. Burn this straw and change it into a soft couch for your most holy body.

Jesus, I am here waiting for your coming. Wicked men have driven you out, and the wind is like ice. I am a poor man, but I will warm you as well as I can. At least be pleased that I wish to welcome you warmly, to love you and sacrifice myself for you.

(Source: http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/stories_of_faith_and_character/cs0350.htm)