The imagery of a silent night,
Wee small hours of the morning,
When some are settling into sleep,
Others waking before the dawning.
A silence in which the slightest sound
Will echo down deserted streets,
And if we knew but to lend an ear,
Could hear the newest mother weep.
A child born to those of meager means,
Who found not even a corner of an inn,
Has pushed his way into the world,
Our Savior, Lord and even yes, our friend.
More than two thousand years ago,
Since God’s Son came into the world,
And though we don’t have the day exact,
Through time the celebration has been hurled.
In the twinkle of the lights so bright,
The love from that first Christmas hour,
Is met with all of Heaven’s light,
As love creates its own unique power.