New Year’s Eve.
Of good men and of angels,
And of the Holy Child,
Who was cradled in a manger,
When winter was most wild.
And of the Holy Child,
Who was cradled in a manger,
When winter was most wild.
Who was poor, and cold, and hungry,
And desolate and lone;
And she thought the song had told,
He was ever with his own.
And desolate and lone;
And she thought the song had told,
He was ever with his own.
And all the poor and hungry,
And forsaken ones are his:
“How good of him to look on me,
In such a place as this.”
And forsaken ones are his:
“How good of him to look on me,
In such a place as this.”
Colder it grows and colder,
But she does not feel it now,
For the pressure at her heart,
And the weight upon her brow.
But she does not feel it now,
For the pressure at her heart,
And the weight upon her brow.
But she struck one little match
On the wall so cold and bare,
That she might look around her,
And see if He were there.
On the wall so cold and bare,
That she might look around her,
And see if He were there.
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