The Mass is said, the bells are still. A candle blinks upon the hill.
‘Tis Christmas night and magic wakes as snow falls softly, flake by flake.
The Faithfull’s feet have crunched the ice and now lie snugly,
Warm and nice, within the beds of gentles sleeping;
All unaware of what comes creeping.
Love and Peace are on the air and ruffle every whisker, hair
That they do pass in woodland glen. They bless the best of creation then
Turn to the town all clothed in white, to bless the good this winter’s night.
With barest whisper of their wings they pass the brightly wrapped things
Beneath the tree and climb the stairs, to those who in their hearts know errs.
They shush and quiet worldly fear, fill souls with grace to last the year.
Onto the next – and next again –
Till all within are without stain.
The angels sing. The earth is still.
May you be blessed, as is His will.