# “The House of Christmas” by G.K. Chesterton

- Link: https://tollelege.net/2015/12/25/the-house-of-christmas-by-g-k-chesterton-3/
- Published: 2015-12-25T07:00:55-06:00
- Author: tollelege

There fared a mother driven forth
 Out of an inn to roam; In the place where she
was homeless All men are at home. The crazy stable close at hand, With shaking timber
and shifting sand, Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand Than the square stones
of Rome.

For men are homesick in their homes,
 And strangers under the sun, And they lay 
on their heads in a foreign land Whenever the day is done. Here we have battle and
blazing eyes, And chance and honour and high surprise, But our homes are under miraculous
skies Where the yule tale was begun.

A Child in a foul stable,
 Where the beasts feed and foam; Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home; We have hands that fashion and heads that know, But our hearts
we lost – how long ago! In a place no chart nor ship can show Under the sky’s dome.

This world is wild as an old wives’ tale,
 And strange the plain things are, The
earth is enough and the air is enough For our wonder and our war; But our rest is
as far as the fire-drake swings And our peace is put in impossible things Where 
clashed and thundered unthinkable wings Round an incredible star.

To an open house in the evening
 Home shall men come, To an older place than Eden
And a taller town than Rome. To the end of the way of the wandering star, To the
things that cannot be and that are, To the place where God was homeless And all 
men are at home.

–G.K. Chesterton, “The House of Christmas” in _[The Collected Works of G.K. Chesterton, Volume X: Collected Poetry](https://www.amazon.com/dp/0898703913?tag=toletaupanre-20),
Part I_, (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1994), 139-40.

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