There fared a mother driven forth
Out of an inn to roam;
In the place where she was homeless
All men are at home.
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.
A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
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 from “The House of Christmas”