 | Later poems by John B. Tabb |  |
24
AT THE MANGER
When first her Christmas watch to keep
Came down the silent angel, Sleep,
With snowy sandals shod,
Beholding what His mother's hands
Had wrought, with softer swaddling-bands
She swathed the Son of God.
Came down the silent angel, Sleep,
With snowy sandals shod,
Beholding what His mother's hands
Had wrought, with softer swaddling-bands
She swathed the Son of God.
Then skilled in mysteries of night,
With tender visions of delight
She wreathed His resting place,
Till wakened by a warmer glow
Than heaven itself had yet to show,
He saw His mother's face.
With tender visions of delight
She wreathed His resting place,
Till wakened by a warmer glow
Than heaven itself had yet to show,
He saw His mother's face.
| Later poems by John B. Tabb | |