Svatopluk Čech

“ Brings to the wealthy child the Christmas tree,
Ladened with gifts, and lights, the poor man’s child,
In his poor room, says sadly, “Naught for me?”
Naught but the flowers on his frost-bound pane.
Is this the love of neighbor, like one’s self?
Oh, Christ of God, Thy Kingdom is not yet,
We are not ruled by love, but filthy pelf.
Oh, that Thy kingdom, nearer to our earth,
Thy starry kingdom, would draw near in love,
And teach our human hearts to know and feel
The blessedness of helping man above,
The degradation that makes life a hell. ”