Little Angel

It is Christmas, Little Angel,

tell me why you weep and wake

me from my sleep.

I've seen you wipe away that

tiny tender tear. So cold to

travel through the air or is it

something that makes you

always stare?

The angel, on my window ledge,

sighed into the night. She

gasped, then in a whisper said:

“Our baby Jesus was born

tonight. I cry because of Sin,

that cuts from deep inside to

outside and again within. I

know a long time ago came the

redemption of Man by a babe

who was our saviour King. We

feast a babe born at Yule tide

and know too how on the cross

He died.”

I listened to the Angel's words

and stared into the night. It was

the sweet Angel that showed me

moonlight  Her tender care for

everything drew me to look up

at the stars, to hear a host of

voices sing out with joy at the

birth of a baby boy.

The angel's whisper of love was

a welcome thing, dearest of all

was how her voice did ring. “I

love thee baby Jesus, come

down from Bethlehem way,

please make it happen that with

Man you will forever stay. You'll

see he's only human, and needs

a helping hand but as you see

him drop down on bended knee

I'm sure you'll think he's grand.

And all the animals love you too,

wanting you to stay. Look

around the crib , built with

loving care, the cows, the

donkey and the chickens stand

sentry over you, and will follow

you anywhere.

The next time I saw my little

Angel, under the mistletoe, she

stood at the top of the

Christmas tree, a shy smile

across her face, her blue eyes

shining down, looking at me.